#maybe i will make a new rule that i have to read a book i already own before i buy a new book

[s-4pphics]

drenched in white. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: after all your time alone, you’re finally not, but you’re definitely not prepared for your new life. [jackson AU]

WORD COUNT: 7.1K

WARNINGS: readers mute and taller than ellie, death, murder, blood, mentions of alcohol/starvation/hypothermia, a bit of gore, near death experience, trauma and sadness, brief girls kissing, some fluff because kids :)

A/N: tbh idk where this came from but i missed ellie so yeah prob wont write anymore of this but yeah 

—

Apocalypses are fucking stupid.

Humans are born into nothing, forced to run all their lives from blood-lustful beasts that can rewire their entire brain chemistry into one that sadistically matches theirs, and if that doesn’t happen, you die anyway with nothing but the clothes on your back and a horse with no rider. That’s fucking stupid. 

You weren’t alive when the world was thriving… presumably so — whatever the old world considered thriving. Those history books you stole in adolescence would argue otherwise, but there were some happy moments. On occasion. Maybe? Whatever. But you weren’t there, and you can only imagine how you would’ve turned out if you were. Would you be married? Have children? Own property? Businesses? Whatever other luxury the old world prioritized although it all seemed exhausting? 

Would you be an addict, a trainwreck, someone who had it all then nothing in the blink of an eye? That seems to be reoccurring in some of those biographies you found about people called celebrities. They have everything then die too young or way too old and eventually fade into a nobody, just like everyone else. History is so heartbreaking. Such cruel fate. 

You’ve been by yourself for a long time. Some would still consider you young, but you feel like a zombie that’s risen from the grave most of the time. You steal and live selfishly and waste your life reading because you can. You’re lucky enough to no longer have anyone you care about. Your recklessness doesn’t hinder anyone but yourself, so you read read read. Sometimes, you hunt for books more than you do for food. You’re not a fighter — it surprises you every day how you haven’t died yet — but a decent amount of people would consider you book smart. This one group you crossed paths with some years ago called you a genius because you’re self-taught in practically everything: reading and writing, starting fires, planting food, sewing, mapping plains. Whenever you’re harmed, you can heal yourself kinda. When you were 14, you stepped on a rusty nail and, instead of living the short remainder of your life as an amputee, you heroed through a disgusting infection that left you ill for 2 weeks, then sewed your own wound up. You couldn’t walk for days. 

That same group also called you mute. 

You don’t think you are, but rightfully so. There’s no one for you to talk to, so you don’t talk, simple as that. Everyone you knew died when you were a kid, maybe 7 or 8 — spending the majority of your life alone and in hiding doesn’t make for much conversation. Plus, the fucks that rule the Earth are nosy as hell. Being as quiet as possible is needed. 

Reading passes time. It’s the last phase of winter, but it’ll be Spring in no time, thanks to the bag you drag through snow: stuffed with one jacket, a rusted chef’s knife, and 46 different novels and counting. 

Your body’s gonna shut down on you. It’s so fucking cold and you’re barely layered but you haven’t finished The Cable Companies, One Hundred and One Best Songs. The pages filled with piano notes are almost enough to make you hear the songs… Or maybe the lack of nutrients is making you hallucinate. Guess you’ll find out when you finish. Just 22 more pages. 

No food, no water, no warmth, no antique piano. You’re fucked any direction you turn. 

There was a small cave somewhere around here. You used to sleep in it during the summer; the dark was always cooler. Maybe it’s buried underneath heaps of snow. You hope not. Fuck. 

The closer you get to the cavern, the grosser the air becomes. Death carries a certain mugginess. Why’d they have to die next to your one retreat? 

You drag and drag on like your legs weigh a ton all the way to the cave and… Great. 

Death and no entrance. Red coats the snow and it reminds you of the twisted tale of Snow White. The decaying carcass of a deer should alarm you, but you only sigh in defeat. Where the fuck are you supposed to read without disturbance? 

You only make it two more steps before you collapse face-first into ice. Your lungs wheeze in pain and you’re trying to get yourself up but you can’t. When you blink, you see colors. 

Is this death? Or karma? A squirrel runs past you just to rub it in. Furry little bitch. 

It’s only when your brain whispers for you to give up that you fully submerge into the snow. Small cries of pain are the only proof of your survival. 

Fuck everything. Fuck people, fuck people that turned into monsters, fuck all the stupid trivial shit that the other world loved so deeply. Call it jealousy. Everything’s for nothing nowadays. 

Your final thought before the world goes dark. 

—

Why is there annoying beeping in heaven? 

Maybe you’re naive in believing you made it there. Maybe this is hell. You thought it’d be more fucked up than this. The beeping is irritating though. Besides that, it’s peaceful. 

Is this an in between world? Half dead, half not. You remember being into paranormal shit in horror stories years ago. Ghostly entities and whatnot. Maybe you’re… that. There’s whispers in the background. Bleary and distant but you kinda hear them. Maybe someone’s conjuring you up. Why you of all people? 

“— ne… de…” 

Need? Your ears are failing. Why is everything suddenly hurting? Pain in your eyes and behind them and all the way down. It’s hurting everywhere. 

“—Jus… there… Not sure.” 

It’s hurts so bad everywhere make it stop make it stop —

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

White overtakes your vision. Too bright and too cold and you can’t stop heaving but you want to because it fucking hurts everywhere

“Hey! Hey! Calm—” 

The voices are clearer and so is the beeping and so is the pain. Gentle hands land on your shoulders and you thrash when faces, needles and medical equipment clear in your vision. There’s something sharp in your arm. Where the fuck when the fuck how —

“You needa calm down—“

You try to tell this blonde freak to go fuck herself but your voice is shot, coughing and spit flying everywhere. 

“The fuck is her probl—“

“Be quiet—“

A crackling scream ripples through you, tears streaming down your face because suddenly more hands are holding you down. Malicious intent or not it makes you fucking sick. The beeping only gets faster. 

“MY — my name’s Maria! Listen to me! My name’s Maria! Some of mine went out on patrol a few days ago and found you almost buried. We’re tryna help you!” 

You continue to sob but they’re a little less guttural. Her voice is nice. Very motherly. 

“You were halfway dead out there,” She huffs like it’s funny and you wanna throw a chair, “What’s your name? Gotta name?” 

All the hands are off you except Maria’s. Maybe because you’re not trying to kick her face in anymore. You’re trying to tell her you don’t fucking remember but nothing comes out. Just more coughing. 

“Take your time. Deep breaths, shhh, you’re alright.” 

You finally meet her eyes and they’re pretty. Pale blue like spring water. The beeping starts to slow bit by bit. It took you all this time to realize that’s your heart. You glimpse at the monitor and… those squiggly lines mean fuck all to you. Why couldn’t you just die?

Your eyes travel, albeit less frantically, but on high guard. Skeptical as ever. You couldn’t even defend yourself against these incredibly polite barbarians if you wanted to. Your bag’s gone. Everything that’s yours is gone. The beeps increase all over again. Maria must sense your anxiety. 

“Hey, hey, we have everything. We just had to make sure you were… alright to come in. No bites or nothing, ‘k?” 

… Fair. Whatever. Gimme my shit. 

“We were snoopin’,” Your vision follows the new voice. A man this time, average sized and bearded, “Ya like t’read?” 

You squint and nod. 

“‘S a good habit.” 

… Awkward. It’s quiet now. 

“How ya feelin’? Any pain?” Maria pries gently. You shrug. Not as bad as it was 2 minutes ago. You eye everyone in here, study as much of them as you can. Face, hands, guns latched around their thighs and shoved in their belts. They’re all threats while simultaneously being unthreatening. For now, at least. 

“Y’all can get on. I got it from here.” She waves the remaining people off and they leave with tense smiles. The door clicks behind them. The beeping is the slowest it’s been since you woke up. 

“Bout that name…” 

You only stare at her. 

“Don't remember?”

You scratch at your neck, and she sighs, “Not much of a talker, huh?” 

You mime writing in a notepad, and Maria quirks with interest. She searches the room before digging through a drawer on the farthest dresser. She returns with a small book and marker. 

The aches in your fingers don’t halt your scribbling. You turn the book towards her. 

ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME? 

The corner of her mouth lifts, “No point in fixin’ ya up if that was the case. No offense, but you’re not threatening.” 

You snort. 

“You been by yourself for a while?” 

You ponder before scribbling. 

I WATCHED MY FAMILY DIE. PRETTY FUCKED UP CHILDHOOD. I’M ALWAYS ALONE. 

She stares sympathetically and shakes her head in apologies. All you can do is shrug. You’d be more surprised if a kid grew up in this world without experiencing mass destruction. Trauma practically raised you. 

“There’s not many people that can do what you do, y’know? You gotta gift.” She jerks her chin at the booklet. “Somebody taught’cha?” 

You point to yourself. 

“Don’t let that head get big now.” She smirks and you smile sorta. 

“We got kids…” Maria blindly points towards the door. 

“A lot of ‘em, and we’ve been tryna get them to read more but… I don’t know, some of these old bastards think it’s pointless and that discourages them.”

Oh. 

“I don’t know what you got goin’ on out there, but… If you choose to go back out there, I won’t fault you, but if you don’t…” 

Uh oh. 

“How do you feel ‘bout teaching toddlers their ABCs?” 

… Shit. 

You scowl. 

“I know it’s not the best… position to be in but, I don’t know, I just want something they can look forward to everyday. A new story, some new conversations… anything to get their little brains crankin’.” 

“They’re so sweet and I feel like they’d gain so much from someone who cares just as much as they do.” 

You don’t write anything. Her pupils shroud with dejection. 

“Think about it?” She’s quick to turn away, but not without one last look over her shoulder, “Rest up.” 

And the door closes. Your eyes shut in no time, and a comforting darkness overtakes you once more. 

—

Leave with nothing but your annotated novels or stay where you’re well fed and warm but surrounded by snotty nosed orphans. Something to think about. 

You’ve been in Jackson — you learned the town is called — for less than 48 hours, most of which you were recovering from a severe case of hypothermia. You don’t remember the last time you had a meal that hot. Maria had to reassure you that no one would take your plate. 

You still haven’t given Maria a clear answer for her teaching proposal, but she doesn’t bug you about it. She is very eager to show you the daycare though. She’s subtle. You respect it. 

Your books are still couped up in the infirmary because, frankly, you hate dragging them everywhere. Maria offered for you to keep them in the library, but you refused. They’re not up for grabs; You nearly died for every single one of those pages and you’ll be damned if someone touches them under your nose. They’re yours. It’s all you got right now. 

You might even leave with a horse if Maria still likes you after telling her no to teaching. Tomorrow morning will wrap up your little dead-then-alive journey. Couldn’t hurt to ask. 

It’s your first time back outside since your near-death experience. The sun is barely peeking from behind the clouds and your face is so cold it’s almost retraumatizing, but it’s pretty out. Maria was nice enough to give you new boots that weren’t hanging on by their laces. 

Jackson bustles like a real, non-apocalyptic town. Lights shine and pick-ups honk and people are fucking smiling? Maybe this is heaven. 

Those walls… They’re still high and barricaded. Scouts babysit those gates like clockwork. To think you were on the other side of their scrutiny just a day ago. The twinkling sound of joy confuses the fuck outta you. Laughter. Not only that, but from children. Not starving, nearly dead children, but well-fed, genuinely happy kids. Why does your stomach twist with jealousy? They deserve peace, of course, but so did you. So does every child. 

Your eyes search for them — curiosity overtakes your limbs and you step with determination, guided by your ears. The twinkles grow in volume — there must be at least 10 kids playing in the snow. 

“HEY! GET OFF, YOU FU—“

“Language!”

“HOW’S THIS FOR LANGU—“

“BOYS! ENOUGH! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHI—!”

“LANGUAGE, MS. DINA!”

“I CAN SAY THAT! YOU CAN’T!”

What a sight this is. Happy kids. Your heart swells. Slightly; you’re glad Maria isn’t here to catch your fondness. 

“Alright, vermins, get up, I’ll miss the party.” 

“5 more minutes, pleeease!”

“I’m not freezing for you. C’mon!” 

The kids seem to love Ms. Dina. They dangle off every single one of her limbs, begging her to throw at least 10 more snowballs. Maybe your ice-cold heart isn’t as frosty as you thought. The sight is disgustingly endearing. 

“Ms. Dina… Who’s that?” 

And the laughter stops. A bunch of eyes attached to tiny bodies all gawk at you, some with intrigue, others with fear as they cower behind their teacher… babysitter? Whoever she is. 

“Not sure, dove. You all have 10 minutes!” 

“20!”

“10 or freeze to death! Go!”

Excited screams filter through the wind when said vermins squabble in snow like puppies, pushing and shoving and chucking icy bullets at each other. You never had to worry about being the oddball out, but you sure do look like one now. 

“Hey. Maria told us about a scrounger.” 

Creases bunch in your forehead, and Dina raises her hands defensively, “Joking, relax. So, are you staying, or…?” You shrug unknowing, and Dina chuckles. 

“I think you should. If I had the option to stay here 24/7, I’d take it in a heartbeat. We could use an extra hand with the kids. Maria said you read?” 

You nod. “Cool. We have a decent amount of readers — more than most, but, uh… yeah. Our kids need help.”

Your lip twitches alongside your pondering. So many questions rest on your tongue but none can leave. Dina’s eyes are consoling. It shouldn’t spark irritation in your stomach but it does. 

“Do you sign?” 

You stare in confusion, and she elaborates, “Like… Sign language?” Her hands make a bunch of gestures you don’t understand and your head shakes. 

“Darn. No worries. If you’re ever interested in learning, just holler. We got some people that are hard of hearing so we all kinda use it occasionally. But, umm… yeah. I’m Dina.” She extends a polite hand but you don’t accept it. Your head jerks in greeting, and she smiles. 

She drops it back to her side, “What should we call you?” 

You don’t know. You don’t care. You’re not staying long. Your shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly. 

“Should I have them pick?” 

Before you can oppose, she’s hollering for— 

“DYLAN! COME HERE!”

A rascal with a beanie and bright red boots sprints towards the two of you. His cheeks are so plush and scarred. Dina fixes the color of his sweater, “Dylan, what’s a good name for a teacher?” 

“Ms. Dina, obviously—“

“Another name.” 

Chipmunk Boy ponders for a moment before snickering, “Mr. Octopus.” 

“Fucking hell—“

“Language, Ms. Dina! SWEAR JAR—“

“We don’t even do that here!”

“Okay, okay… just call them Dove or something! Don’t think we don’t notice you calling us that when you forget our names!” 

Dina’s eyes widen, “That’s not true! What the… freak!” 

Red-Boot-Ranger smirks when Dina catches herself before getting pelted at the back of the head with a snowball. 

“Little BITCH—“

Dina shouts, “HEY!—“

“MS. DINA, FRANKIE CURSED!”

“NO, I DIDN’T—“

Arguments break out between all 13 children, loud and boisterous and your head pounds. Too much for one day. 

“STOP— sorry, I gotta handle this, but it was nice meeting you! BOYS—“ 

Dina throws you one last wave before rushing off to scold Dylan and his… bully? You think that’s what they were called in some books you read. A kid messing with another kid or something like that. 

You take this last bit of alone time before you depart to explore. 

Despite your eagerness to disappear, Jackson is nice. You don’t know what Christmas entails, but it’s often described as festive: a day for togetherness and family and whatever the hell else ‘can’t be bought’ yet everyone buys. Jackson is visually festive. Celebratory scenery. What exactly they’re celebrating goes over your head. There’s nothing to be joyous over. Death traps Jackson at every corner. 

Loud music pulls you from your thoughtful stroll. One look through a very large window is enough to scare you shitless. A seemingly cozy space is filled to the brim with strangers who dance and drink and laugh their heads off; Their familiarity with one another makes you physically ill. The scene is like a bullet to the chest. Reminds you of what was once home.

Your nausea doesn’t overtake your curiosity, though. 

The moment you step into the bar, warmth suffocates you, heat sizzling through your legs as your face defrosts. The entire bar screams out lyrics to a song you never heard while cups get refilled with burning liquid and it’s overwhelming. There’s so much movement. Too much. 

Blonde hair swings out the corner of your eye and you’re instantly relieved. You hustle to where Maria chats with partygoers from across the bar. She’s shocked to see you. 

“Hey! You’re up’n moving!” 

You wave awkwardly. Gawk back at the people that gawk at you before Maria hands you a glass. 

“You drink?” You deny with a raised hand, and she smiles. 

“Probably not the best time to ask,” She hollers over the jukebox, “I’m hoping this is your initiation?” Her eyes are hopeful, and your throat dries a bit. Why are you hesitating to answer?

Maria’s nice enough… probably the nicest stranger you’ve ever met in your entire life, and it seems more comfortable in Jackson than anywhere you’ve been. It doesn’t seem so bad… but you don’t like children. You barely liked yourself at age 10; short and clumsy and vulnerable. Children are too exposed and trusting, even in this life. They get people killed because they’re not careful. It shocks you that a fortress like Jackson carries so many. 

A pen and paper get slid on wood and placed in front of you. You eye Maria, and she nods encouragingly. You waste no time. 

I DON’T THINK I’LL BE A GOOD TEACHER. DINA HAS MORE PATIENCE IN HER PINKY THAN I DO IN MY ENTIRE BODY. I’M SORRY. 

You meekly hold the note up for Maria, and you know she’s disappointed. You patiently wait for her to tell you to get your shit so she can kick you out herself. 

It never comes. 

“I hope that girl didn’t scare you,” In reference to Dina, and you deny, “I had a feeling you’d say no. It’s alright. Kids are… a lot.” 

You set the paper down in relief that she’s not angry. About that horse… 

“Doesn’t hurt to ask… You still wanna leave?” 

That stuns you. Oftentimes, large groups aren’t so welcoming to… scroungers, or whatever Dina made you out to be. The less mouths to feed, the better. If a newbie holds no purpose, they’re left out to die on their own. It’s happened to you countless times. Why does she care about a stranger so much?

Maria chuckles at your stunned expression, “It’s, um… it’s hard out there. We’ve all seen it, and we’re lucky to have found somewhere… stable. It doesn’t come often.” 

“The choice is still yours, stayin’ or goin’, but if you’re scared I’ll kick you out… don’t be. We got nothin’ but space.” 

Your mind races yet not one cohesive response comes through. Maria laughs at your slack jaw. “Here. Sleep on it tonight, and let me know in the mornin’. It’s a party! Let loose a little. Go mingle.“

You scribble on the last bit of remaining space. 

I’M NOT A PEOPLE PERSON. 

Maria huffs, “Neither’s my niece. She’s like a niece to me, that one, over there.” She points at the end of the bar to a woman, girl — looks around your age, babysitting a drink: tatted, hair pulled back, and sulking. She talks with a guy with a mullet that’s too movie-star ready. “You two’d get along, I think. Her name’s Ellie. Jesse’s the one next to her, he’s a sweetheart. Very helpful. If Dina was here, they’d be the Three Musketeers. She still with the kids?”

You nod, but your eyes are locked onto Ellie’s tattoo. You’ve never seen one in person. In romance books, people with tattoos are always trouble: good in bed with murderous tendencies. Maybe it’s wrong to assume, but Ellie doesn’t seem like that. No one that pouty would kill a fly. You wonder if her friend has tattoos. He’d fit the stereotype more.

“Wanna meet ‘em?” 

Fire bursts underneath your cheeks. You vehemently shake your head at Maria, and mischief glints in her eyes. 

“HEY, ELLIE, JES—“

You gawk at Maria, tugging at her wrist for her to stop, but she laughs, “Hey, you two!”

Your face falls into your palm. “Need somethin’, Maria?” A deep voice blares. Jesse, apparently. Fucking great.  

“No, hun. Just introducing a new friend,” Maria whispers loud enough for you to hear before tending to other patrons, “Convince her to stay?” 

Your eyes roll and your heart pulses. 

“… Hey.” 

You wave weakly. Annoyed, and Jesse laughs. “Yeah, she’s a lot sometimes. I’m Jesse.” You send him a thumbs up. 

“… Gotta name yourself?”

You shrug with agitation. If someone else asks you that, you’ll scream. 

“… Hm. Okay, then. I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” You decline as politely as your attitude allows. 

“You, El?” 

“M’good.” 

“Alright,” He hums too uppity, “Enjoy the quiet.” He goofs before following Maria to the other end of the bar. Silence ensues between you and Ellie, and it’s fucking awkward. It wouldn’t be if you were by yourself. You pick at the piece of paper in front of you. 

Ellie adjusts her stance, attention on the dance that dominates the floor, her tatted arm propping her up against the bar. You can see the fine lines out the corner of your eye: leaves of a fern resting underneath a moth. A Polyphemus. Compulsive. A symbol of death, you once read somewhere. Regardless, it’s beautifully done. 

“Want a picture?” 

You stiffen and your gaze drops to the paper. Your eyelids squeeze shut in embarrassment. 

Ellie releases a hefty breath before sighing, “You read?” She asks, and you shrug. 

“You don’t talk?” You do nothing. 

She already sounds annoyed by you. You hope she notices you’re in the same boat. “It’s better if you don’t.” She mumbles to herself. You throw a glare in her direction, but she pays you no mind. She’s focused elsewhere, eyes much more delicate. You discreetly follow her line of vision. 

… Dina. Hilarious. Is she a god here? Good with children and the annoying and aloof? Everyone here claps and hoots at her being dipped by her partner like they’ve never seen dancing before. When did she even get here? Where are the kids? Maybe they’re all snowballed out and went to bed—

… What. What the fuck? You don’t care, what the hell. 

You turn back to Ellie when Dina waves at her, wide-eyed and princess-y, before waltzing towards Jesse to throw her arms around his neck, which he eagerly returns around her waist. Ellie’s expression goes from lovestruck to tense in an instant, jaw clenched and eyes burning through the floor. You try to hide a snicker. 

Ellie’s jealous. Adorable. 

“The fuck are you smiling for?” She grumbles at you, but her cheeks burn under the yellow light. Your laughter finally bubbles over. 

“Nothing’s funny. Shut the fuck—“

“Well, what’d I tell you! Two wallflowers hittin’ it off! Look at that smile!” 

Maria graciously interrupts Ellie’s angered mantra. Your hand hides your grin before a light hand brushes your back. You flinch away on instinct. No one notices except Ellie. 

Dina greets you first and you almost holler with joy, “Hey, Dove! Sorry I didn’t come over earlier! Had to get this circus goin’ since no one else did,” She casually takes Ellie’s glass and downs its contents with no problem, “Thank you.” 

“Such a dick.” Ellie says slowly, and Dina smiles. “You love me.” 

You pinch your smile away. 

“Dove?” Maria inquiries. 

Dina shrugs, “Better than Doe. Makes her sound like a corpse. Dove’s cute.”

“Cute for a bitch,” Ellie slips under her breath, and Dina slaps her arm in scolding. Tames her until she quiets like an actual bitch. This shit is hilarious. 

“I like that. Dove.” Maria approves. “It’s… fitting. Joel found her buried in white, so.” 

“Okay, Mrs. Poet—“

Maria’s married? Huh. 

She hushes Dina playfully. The dark-haired girl interlaces Ellie’s fingers with hers before yanking her off the bar and onto the dance floor. The music slows as if cued just for them. Dina pulls Ellie into her, and Ellie’s hands rest on her waist. 

Dina leads, surprisingly. 

Ellie’s expression doesn’t scream delight. She’s nerve wracked and her eyes flit over every body that surrounds her with anxiety. Even yours. 

Dina’s a good distraction. She's quite seductive when she brushes loose hair behind Ellie’s ear, caresses her cheek, touches her with tenderness that you’ve only seen described on paper. Only in your imagination was it real. 

Kisses her.

Oh. 

You turn away. Your skin’s hot. Maria’s distracted. Thank God. You’ve had enough mingling for tonight. You leave the bar without a trace, the pen and paper left on the stand the only evidence of your appearance. 

“Hey! HEY! Ms. Dina’s friend!”

“They’re not friends, she just got here—“

“Shut up! Ms. Dina always said respect your olders—“

“Elders, dumbfuck. And she doesn’t look old—“

Ah, the potty-mouthed bully. Although, he doesn’t seem so threatening in the darkness. Children are the bane of your existence. You’re nowhere near the infirmary. Why are they out in the cold by themselves? 

“Hey, Ms. Dina’s friend, how was the party! Ms. M said we aren’t allowed to go in because people are… drunk, whatever that means!” 

The same voice from earlier. Red-boot-Ranger. Dylan. 

“It means they’re alcoholics—“ A girl this time. Shorter than Dylan but just as expressive. 

“I thought alcohol made people happy?“

“Could be, but my aunt drank herself to death so I guess it’s different for everyone!” 

Goddamn. 

“What’s your name, miss! … Ma’am?” Dylan corrects shyly. 

“Ma'am means grandma—“

“Ruth, shut the hell up, Jesus!” 

“NO, YOU SHUT UP—“

Dylan waits expectantly while the other two kids attempt to rip each other’s heads off. You flap your hands like wings. 

“… Fly? Your name’s fly?” 

You shake your head and point upward. 

“OH! Sky!—“

You wave your hands in denial and flap your arms while squawking. 

“… Bird? Bald Eagle? Um…” 

You yank at your hair in exasperation before pointing down at untouched, white snow beneath your feet. 

“Snow? Snow bird? Uhh… Swan… Lake?”

Decent guess. This fucking sucks. 

“I don’t know what your name is, miss, I’m sorry.” Fucking Christ, the poor thing looks so upset. You’re suddenly the worst human being on the planet. “Are you mad at me?” Dylan asks, voice laced with insecurity, and something cracks in your chest. What the fuck. Your hands wave in denial apprehensively, and he exhales a held breath before smiling. 

“I like you! Why don’t you talk?” 

You sigh before scribbling on your palm like you did with Maria, and all three kids excitedly demand writing utensils from each other. 

“I DON’T HAVE A MARKER!” Frankie hisses when Ruth slaps him on the shoulder. 

“DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS? FREAKO!”

“Freako! ARE YOU FIVE—“

“What are you kiddos still doin’ up?” 

“MR. JOEL!”

Ruth and Dylan practically jump onto this old man and he groans mockingly. Joel. Hm. 

“You’re all supposed to be sleep. Did Dina not tuck you in?”

“She did, but we snuck out. We’re bored! Please throw snowballs at us!” Frankie whines. 

Joel calmingly caters to the children and their hyperactivity; his voice is very soothing. Gentle enough for the kids to accept that he’s not chucking snowballs at them this late at night. 

Joel addresses you. “Maria decided to keep you ‘round?” 

It was him. His eyes are calm and welcoming, but there’s a hollowness behind them. It’s hardly noticeable, but he’s bothered by something. He masks it well enough for the kids. He must be a dad. Maybe one of them is his. You just shrug, and he chuckles; crackles like fire. Breaks a bit. His eyes grow sadder the longer he stares at you. Is this man about to cry? 

“I’ll, uh… I’ll walk ‘em back,” He nods at Dylan who’s already half asleep on his shoulder, and you nod. He gives you one last look before turning. You clutch onto his hand before he can go any further. He seems shocked by the gesture, but you squeeze it with all your might. You hope every clench reads as a thank you thank you thank you. 

He swallows before nodding down at you, returning your gentle squeezes. The last breath he takes before leading the kids home is unsteady. Who broke that poor man’s heart? 

You watch his back all the way down the trail until the door to the bar slams shut. It’s Ellie all bundled up and seemingly about to strangle somebody. You can see Dina and Jesse scrambling to follow her through the window, but Ellie’s determined to get the fuck outta range. 

You don’t know why, but you whistle loud enough to get her attention. Her cheeks are blazing and her eyes are pained and angry. 

“The fuck do you want?” Her breath frosts with each spit she throws. You’re not really sure, so you throw her a thumbs up. Two just in case she read it as good work instead of are you good? 

She scoffs a laugh that sounds like a sob, “Fuck off.” And she’s off again. The opposite direction from Joel. 

Alright. Fuck her too. 

—

The past 5 days have been a blur. 

The morning after the party, your brain wracked to put every single interaction together but came up short. So much happened that you can barely grasp it. You died, came back, met at least 100 people, experienced acute peer pressure, and got cussed out by some short, tattooed psychopath with an equivalent amount of people skills as you. 

You’ve met teachers, medical professionals, rambunctious kids with a hunger similar to rhinos, a potential dad with an insane amount of patience, but all you can think about is Ellie and her fucking tattoo. 

You think that same moth appeared in your dream last night, flapping around and pissing you off. 

Maria’s been in a good mood, at least. Maybe because you’re staying in Jackson until further notice. You’re glad she didn't make a big deal about it: the inquiry was short and over breakfast the morning after the party. You slid her note that read CAN I STAY?, she said yes, and now you have a two story home all to yourself, floor stacked to the ceiling with your books and some she lent you. 

The first thing you did after she left was scream bloody murder for no reason other than relief. After years of instability, you finally have something consistent. You don’t know how to react to that besides weeping. 

There’s only one downside. Ellie’s your neighbor. Life will always humble you. 

She’s the first person you see every morning and the last every night and you hate it. The only time you experience true peace is when she’s out on patrol. To think you assumed Ellie wasn’t violent. She returned one morning on her horse covered knee-high in blood as she wiped her switchblade on her dirtied jeans. Even Jesse seemed intimidated. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been everywhere: tending the garden, handing beers out to men twice your age, fixing lights. Joel even asked for assistance on a car repair even though you’ve never seen one in your life. You both finished, though. Drives good as new. 

You think Dylan’s grown attached. He’s very clingy and you hate it but he also has the chubbiest cheeks you’ve ever seen so you have no choice but to forgive him for his sins. Whenever he jumps on your back while you’re squatted in front of the garden, you just deal with it. He rambles enough for the both of you. 

Now you’re serving dinner with a homophobe. Yippee. 

Seth sucks gorilla balls. When Maria first introduced you both, he thought you were deaf and asked if you had to be put with him. When you glared at him, he went red in the face. You understand why Ellie hates him. Apparently he called her and Dina dykes at the party and she and Joel almost strangled him. The canteen’s already filled with people, but the patrol group hasn’t returned. They usually make it back before sunset, but it’s dark now. Seth’s set on closing the kitchen down, but you decline everytime. They’re probably starving wherever they are. 

It’s not until an hour, then 2 passes when you wrap all 12 of their individual plates. 

You’re scared shitless, but it’s time for Dylan’s bedtime story. 

—

You always have to remind Dylan to keep his volume down during story time so he doesn’t wake the other kids. 

“Why would anyone give up anything magical for a cow? Okay, sure, you’re betting that they actually are magic, but why on Earth? I’d never give away my magic! Am I wrong, Ms. Dove?” 

You smile and deny. 

“SEE! Exactly! Anyway,” He refocuses on the page. “You numbskull! I can’t eat! You ruined my appetite!” 

Dylan’s a great reader, but he loses his place very often. You showed him the follow-your-finger trick and it’s helped, but the poor thing always has to comment on everything. At least he’s entertained. 

You don’t realize you dozed off on the floor until you’re frantically awoken by a teary-eyed Dylan. The big and small babies cry while they barricade the door with blankets and dressers. Your heart sinks. 

“Ms. Dove…” Dylan whispers. 

Screams echo from outside and the windows have orange hues. Something’s burning. 

“Someone bad is outside.” 

The patrol group is back. 

—

You don't meet Clickers often. 

They come and go and kill as they please and you don’t bother them, simply take your plans in the opposite direction as stealthy as possible. Even with your avoidance, they somehow always find their way back to you. Back to everyone. 

You hear everything from the daycare; hollering, gunshots, Clickers wailing, but you can’t fucking see. Protocol for a daycare lockdown is fairly simple: turn off the lights and take all the brats up to the nursery. It’s the most child-safe section of the building while simultaneously having a locked drawer filled with glocks. Great. 

Now you’re locked up with whimpering toddlers with a weapon you barely know how to use. If Joel hadn’t done that runthrough with you yesterday, you’d be fucked and so would the kids. You rock Dylan who sits on your lap while hushing the toddlers. You’re doing whatever you can to keep them quiet, but they’re babies who cry a lot. You hum to them, braid their hair, roll scratched-up dice but nothings fucking working. You never thought you’d regret staying in Jackson this early on. 

The younger ones start wailing when pounding on wood echoes from downstairs. Dylan holds you closer. 

Protocol is simple. 

Don’t open the door. Maria told you that. Keep it locked and don’t open it. 

The thuds get louder and so do the children and panic bombards you. It’s starting to feel too familiar. Those bangs are so fucking loud. Toddlers to 13 year olds are looking to you for guidance while you’re crumbling. How do you make them stop crying why won’t they stop fucking crying— 

Someone’s trying to beat the door down. Dylan’s practically choking you with his little arms as he sobs quietly into your neck. You don’t realize you’re crying until a small hand wipes your face and tiny bodies snuggle closer to you. 

Are you going to die surrounded by children all over again? One time wasn’t enough, God? The best moment of your life turns to the worst in a matter of seconds. You’ll have to run away like you did the first time. You should’ve never slid the note asking for more time with the kids under Maria’s door, fuck fuck fuck—

3 deafening pops bang from outside, and then there’s silence. It sounds like wood is breaking and there’s footsteps rushing upstairs and the babies are screaming so loud. When the nursery door lock gets shot off, Dylan screams right in your ear. 

“EVERYBODY OUT, LET’S GO!” 

“Mr. Tommy!” Relief washes over your kids before they start hustling. 

“OUT, OUT, LET’S GO!” 

All the kids scramble to grab their coats and socks and boots before rushing out of the nursery. Your hands won’t stop shaking. You barely get onto your feet before Tommy shoves you against the wall with fire for pupils. 

“You never fuckin’ wait to die when there’s kids around, you understand me!” 

You’re nodding but you can’t hear because you’re still sobbing. “Whatever bullshit you learned outside is over with now. It don’t matter what happens, always give them a chance to live even if it means you’re done!”

Tommy doesn’t waste another second on you. He leaves with a tense back and a rifle and you allow yourself to break. You heave and sob because that’s all you could do when you were a child and your brothers and sister were all killed in front of you. 

—

You vacate the daycare hours later. The doors need fixing. 

Your head and eyes hurt terribly but nothing compares to the emptiness in your chest. Maria told you that the kids would be separated into different houses until the daycare is safe for them again. Even she stares at you with disapproval despite her indifferent tone.

You feel like a ghost on the walk back home. Your hands are clenched in fists and your breathings slow. Why didn’t you stay downstairs and check the windows to make sure there were no intruders? Why weren’t you holding the gun in preparation for battle? Why’d you allow the kids to believe you couldn’t protect them? 

Because you couldn’t. In that moment, you were a child all over again, just as lost and confused and scared as they were. It was all too familiar. 

Jackson’s asleep, minus the painful groaning coming from behind Ellie’s home. 

You’re immediately in defense. So many patrol members had to go to the infirmary after their arrival. Maria never mentioned anything about Ellie. 

Your concern carries your feet until you round the corner, and her gun’s already drawn and pointed at you. That barely shakes you; it’s what surrounds her thats confusing.

She’s leant back against the foundation of her home surrounded by towels, a large bottle of clear liquid, and her profusely bleeding, non-tattooed arm that wraps around her stomach. 

When you take a cautious step toward her, her gun clicks. Her eyes are vicious and untrustworthy, and you know she’d kill you in a second. She watches every move you make down to the ragged rise and fall of your chest. You’re unsure how long you stand there before she winces in pain. It’s slight but you catch it. You slowly point to the open wound on her forearm. 

“What.” She rasps. You mime wrapping a bandage on yourself. Her snicker is pained. 

“Get the fuck outta here. You done enough for tonight.” 

You swallow thickly, unmoving. 

“Fuck off before I blow your brains out.” 

You take 2 more steps. 

“GET THE FU—“

When your knees hit the snow in front of her, she’s stunned silent. You’re already reaching for the bandage and bottle of disinfectant. You can’t see her injury that well, but she might need stitches if it’s still that bloody. When you reach for her injured arm, she pushes you into the snow. You groan in frustration before getting up and trying again. 

Ellie swallows a pained noise and maneuvers her injury away the closer you get. You’re trying to help her! Why’s she being so difficult! You crack open the disinfectant and your nose instantly burns. You gasp before moving the bottle away from your face. 

“Just go the fuck home, goddamnit—“

That’s not disinfectant. It’s acid. 

Ellie’s gun is still on you, but she’s not as steady. There’s a tremor in her weapon and her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth. Any movement she makes seems to hurt her. 

You move closer, and Ellie wheezes like an injured gazelle. It’s not until you see the small indentation when you realize her bleeding isn’t from a knife or a gun. 

Those are teeth marks. 

Ellie got bit. Your heart thrashes and your legs beg you to run. 

You know, and she knows you know. It’s a misunderstanding, it has to be. A human or a dog or a bear bit her, not a Clicker, not one of them. 

She smirks but it’s sinister. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll tear out your windpipe and feed it to one of those fuckers.” Her head jerks towards the gate, and as if on command, the lot of them squeal into the night like hyenas. 

[unpretty]

this also stacks with my existing stance that i don't pirate because if it's not worth my money (that i can get more of) then why is it worth my time (that i cannot get back). this has saved me from a lot of garbage.

but then the instant i see a deep discount on something i might maybe want to enjoy someday when i have time i'm like "but what if there's never another sale this good again!!" and i fall into The Trap. this feels like a pretty good illustration of at least part of the problem:

like, my original post was about making too many trips to the store, but i feel like i should admit that this is also not ideal behavior

if i'm going to make an exception at all, it feels like it should be for buying art directly from artists, but i already decided patreon etc won't disqualify me from earning my star stickers so in that respect i think i'm fine

I vote only buying the gift card counts as buying something.

the problem is that my goal isn't just to spend less money, or be more mindful of the money i'm spending, it's to Buy Less. like... my constant FOMO-fueled impulse-buying of $2 ebooks and $10 video game bundles is part of the problem. so buying a $25 gift card and buying my $2 ebooks with that feels like it goes against the spirit of what i'm trying to do. i have thousands of books i haven't read, and hundreds of games i haven't played, and maybe i should learn not to buy things unless i'm willing to pay full price.

... but also i've already decided that gift cards other people give me or that i earn through bing rewards etc. don't count so maybe in a few months i'll give up and decide i can buy a gift card and that buying a lot of cheap ebooks isn't the end of the world.

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[rxmxa]

random (spicy) astro observations 18+

disclaimer: these are based on my experiences & observations ‼️⚠️🙈

ppl that have gemini mars, virgo mars, mercury-pluto, mercury-mars aspects, mercury-lilith aspects and also air signs in the 12th house (libra, gemini, or Aquarius 12th house) could enjoy dirty talk in bed. They love talking you through it or also you hearing say it back. They are the type to say the craziest shit in the heat of the moment.

ok we all know that mercury-pluto aspects like dirty talk (hearing it BUT especially giving it). mercury (talking/conversation) & pluto (the taboo) = freaky ass shit. they want to be talked through it & they wanna talk u through it!! BUT NO FR, I was sitting here wondering what exactly the flavor of the conversation will be based on your mercury sign and where your pluto is. Here r some ideas based on a random chart:

12h Gemini Mercury in opposition to 6h Pluto. Maybe when they're talking you through it, they're saying ALL THE WILD ASS SHITTT they've been keeping in their head, like they could start talking about their fantasies and things that were on their subconscious start to come (LOL) to the surface (12h). "I been thinking about fcking u like this ever since you were teasing me wearing that dress the other day" or things along those lines! Like it could really shake you to your boots with the specific descriptions. And if it's Gemini mercury, the dirty talk could be in the form of questions and very animated or rapid questions back to back in true Gemini fashion, of course. "You like that? you like the way I fuck you?"

But then you have the 6h pluto, so theyre mentioning 6h themes during sex like for example daily life/ routines. they could be talking about how turned on they get everytime they see u do anything mundane, like reading a book or tasting something, how they start imagining your mouth on other things. Or how the other day when u were doing (random daily task) all they were thinking about (redacted).

this all stems from me being nosey and wondering who else is acting a fool in bed too :( I wonder if the sextiles and trines are more natural/ sexier sounding, LOL, and then with squares and oppositions afterward, ur, like, OMG, why did I say that? I have Mercury Square Pluto, and I [redacted]. But honestly, it's not that serious and in the moment it feels hot so who cares 😭

In conclusion, Mercury Sign = HOW they say it, like the mannerisms in their speech. Pluto House = where the scope of their freakiness narrows down. LMFAOOO.

AND ALSO, where their Pluto is, you can also boost their ego. If they have Pluto in the 6th house u tell them about how their body is so attractive, how much it turns you on when they help you and make your life easier, that u wanna show them how thankful u are. or they have pluto in the 9th house and tell them they're so fucking smart, that ur so lucky to be with someone like them that u wanna make the experience worth it and memorable for them, that u will worship them. OR OR Pluto in 1st house, tell them you love how they move through life, how powerful they are, how other people are probably so jealous you have someone like them etc

speaking of mercury in the 12h though, we know that the 12th house rules over hidden aspects of ourselves, like secrets, solitude, and unconscious desires that are not immediately visible or acknowledged in the outside world. So with sextrology, that house can give u sneak peak into their fantasies and even the ones they might be afraid of acting on.

for ex with whole signs: in daily life, taurus rising strives to maintain a balanced and harmonious daily routine (libra 6th house) BUT THENNN with that aries 12th house they fantasize about being able to let loose, to be able to be more assertive and lead in the bedroom, to be able to tell them exactly what to do etc. look at the signs and its energy.

we know ppl with Mars-Uranus aspects are ~eccentric~ in bed, like they're willing to try anything new, like that new position they saw on Twitter or some shit, BUT it's also about spontaneity, like people with this aspect in bed could be like, "Okay, now let's do this" and then randomly b like" OKAY now turn me around and then do this." It's not just about picking one ~spicy new random thing~ to try. It's about keeping up with the randomness throughout it all.

you know what vibes ppl with mars-uranus aspects also give me? The scenes in the movies where they step into the apartment and its quiet for a split second but then theyre knocking shit over and breaking lamps and flipping tables and shit until they get to the bedroom. "Is somebody gonna match my freak?" was about this aspect

moon-mars synastry also gives me the vibe where you give each other the look in the middle of the party 👀👀 and then your like wellp guys we gotta go bye!! and next thing you know you’re.. well I’ll leave it up to your imagination. ORRRR also being late to the party because you were fucking LMAO

Sometimes, the crazy thing about having birth charts of related people is how even preferences can be similar. For example, one of my college friends and her brother asked me to look at their chart. They both have a Mars-Jupiter conjunction and have the same preferences regarding physical features (they're lighter and have light eyes, and they prefer people with darker complexions and darker hair and also people from outside their own culture).

mars-jupiter can manifest in many ways, but that's just one way it does for them. Being drawn (mars) to foreign cultures, dialects, and customs (Jupiter). But then the house highlights a difference; her conjunction is in the 9th house, and she is invested in her religion and spirituality ( 9h topics); it's a turn-on for her to find someone who aligns with her sentiments. He has his conjunction in the 1st house, so looking at 1h topics (body, appearance, identity), his focus could be more on appearance and less on a specific focus. For example, he could meet someone and be attracted to their appearance and confidence in who they are, so they check off their box with their preference and are more flexible with other qualities (such as their religious beliefs or daily routine, etc). But if the conjunction is in the 10th house, it's about focusing on someone career-driven, or in the 4th house and being attracted to someone who is in tune with their family and roots.

It can look differently though, like when ppl with mars-jupiter aspects like someone they can be like "i'm attracted (mars) to your intelligence, to the way you talk about the world, to how you think big (jupiter) "

or ppl with mars-sun aspects can be like "i'm attracted (mars) to your confidence and with the way you take up space and light up every room u walk into (sun)"

mars-uranus: I'm attracted (mars) to your unique tastes and niche hobbies and how you are so different than the other people in my life (uranus)

mars-venus: I'm attracted (mars) to the way you appreciate the finer things in life the way I do, how you look so beautiful when you take charge etc.

mars-neptune: I'm attracted (Mars) to the way you bring a sense of magic and mystery into my life, how you seem to live in a world of your own that’s so spiritual and dreamy (Neptune)

mars-moon: im drawn (Mars) to how safe and emotionally connected I feel with you, how you nurture my feelings and create a comforting space for me to express myself (Moon)

cancer mars in the composite chart will have you fucking like animals honestly. There is a sense of comfort where you want to be as close as possible (aka raw sex, breeding kink, wanting them to cum inside you and them eager to do it as well). This is the couple that after will giggle and talk about baby names or how many kids they’re going to have. Or what there future house will look like. This couple could be very big on aftercare as well or just cuddling and holding each other for a while once they are done. Truly some mom and dad energy right there honestly.

sun conjunct mars synastry can lead to a fast paced relationship. You meet one day and the next two days you might already be in bed together. It can be hot synastry until sun does something, no matter how trivial, that is just going to piss mars the fuck off. Can lead to make up sex though. But then it happens again.

Gemini mars (men) can have much more stamina and last longer in bed. But in the meanwhile they’re going to put you in dozens of different positions before they finally finish.

Mars-Saturn, Capricorn Mars or Mars in the 10th house, or even those with mars at cap degrees such as 10 degrees, 22 degrees placements love when people "play hard to get." They don't mind playing the long game and being patient. They could like bondage or any kind of restraint such as holding the wrists down or arms back.

[inkskinned]

the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.

capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.

now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.

and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.

and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.

and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".

it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"

[the-boy-meets-evil]

all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind. 

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around. 

Not this year. 

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it. 

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same. 

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year. 

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy. 

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks. 

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.” 

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown. 

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?” 

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist. 

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately. 

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine. 

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere. 

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects. 

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists. 

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen. 

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks. 

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,” 

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.” 

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists. 

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder. 

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.” 

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.” 

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone. 

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be. 

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer. 

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree. 

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge. 

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks. 

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.” 

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises. 

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.” 

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead. 

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker. 

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on. 

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.” 

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused. 

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says. 

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you. 

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t. 

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly. 

“I wasn’t going to say that.” 

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.” 

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share. 

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.” 

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks.  Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.” 

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.” 

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.” 

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?” 

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.” 

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area. 

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.” 

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.” 

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing. 

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says. 

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation. 

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time. 

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins. 

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well. 

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response. 

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him. 

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree. 

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?” 

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away. 

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.” 

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him. 

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right. 

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin. 

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him. 

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss. 

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine. 

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.” 

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.” 

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.” 

“Good,” he says. 

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture. 

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg. 

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans. 

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?” 

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive. 

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.” 

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath. 

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out. 

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.” 

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest. 

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body. 

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down. 

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment. 

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little 

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters. 

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him. 

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.” 

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say. 

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him. 

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. 

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out. 

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream. 

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans. 

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans. 

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him. 

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out. 

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers. 

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care. 

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty. 

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question. 

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says. 

“We’re already here,” you point out. 

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back. 

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder. 

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.” 

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded. 

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says. 

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. 

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up. 

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles. 

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says. 

“And?” you prompt. 

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke. 

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him. 

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe. 

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says. 

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say. 

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you. 

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say. 

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke. 

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos. 

“Me too,” you agree. 

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace. 

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

[mywritersmind]

RULE NO.1 - LN

summary : fewtrell!sister. The one rule Max keeps strict with Lando is to stay away from his sister! Lando has always teased the girl but as she returns from college to crash at Max’s, it’s not so much of a joke anymore.

warning : kissing kissing kissing!

word count : 1740

⋆ ˚‧｡⋆

My brother has always had one rule with Lando, that is, ‘No, Under so circumstances, can you ever do ANYTHING with my sister.’ After I had my first kiss with said F1 driver, Max vetoed anything between us.

Of course there was nothing there, we were twelve and I had a tiny crush on him. But Lando is nothing if not mischievous.

He flirts. That’s the way he gets around the silly rule. His touches linger, his words tease me, and his eyes say anything he forgot.

Max absolutely hates it, especially with Landos track record with girls, it’s become a way to protect me and his own friendship.

I don’t exactly hate it. It’s a hot guy flirting with me, why would I hate it? Still, maybe my teeny tiny crush never fully left my mind. And with his meaningless words comes my own meaningful feelings.

“You look good.” I can see Lando in the reflection of the TV. He sips his tea, and leans against the counter.

He's in running shorts and a Quadrant shirt.

“Thank you.” I haven’t seen Lando in more than a year. I’ve been in my last year at Uni and his career has been crazier than ever. I would be fine around him… except that the last time I saw him it was new years. And he kissed me.

He kissed me and it’s lived rent free in my head for over a year. Max doesn’t know, of course he doesn’t because Lando is still in one piece.

Our whole childhood I was just the little sister who sometimes would beat them at mario kart. I’m two years younger, nothing crazy, yet Max seems to think it’s illegal for Lando to see me in shorts.

“Where’s my brother?” I ask, turning the page of my book without reading any words.

“Running.” He shrugs, “He’s slow.” I hear Landos footsteps come closer, then his bent over body leans against the back of the couch, making our heads next to each other.

He's turned toward me, I refuse to take my eyes off this book. “Why? You don’t trust us alone?”

Fuck Max and his slow ass.

I turn to face him, not letting myself feed his ego, “I don’t trust Max’s judgment of us alone.”

Landos slow smirk that tormented me throughout my childhood drifts back onto his face, “He’s right though.”

I sigh and close my book, getting up and walking to the kitchen, “He’s not here, Norris. You don’t have to play like that.”

“Play like what?” He turns to face me, wanting me to say it. “Oh i’m sorry, Your boyfriend wouldn’t approve?”

I hate the way he knows me because he clocks the way my lips pull into a thin line immediately, “You broke up?”

“It was mutual.” I say quickly.

“You dumped him.” He laughs out loud, walking closer to me, “God, Y/N please tell me he cried.” he did cry, actually.

I pivot and grab an apple for myself. I bite into it and Lando takes the time to assess me. I suddenly feel naked in sweats and a tank top.

“You’re one to talk. You cried after Kelly Allen kissed another boy on the playground.”

“That was in primary school!”

I laugh as he gets defensive, “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait! Come on, humor me a bit more.” He steps closer and I step backwards.

“Goodnight, Lando.” I turn around.

“Goodnight, Gorgeous.” His words make me spin on my heels.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He fakes innocence.

“Stop being a flirt! You’re never serious around me and it’s getting annoying.” Something in his face changes then.

“Why would you think I’m not being serious?”

The door opens right as he says it, my brother stomping in as I back away from Lando, “I- Hate- You!” he pants as Landos whole demeanor changes to casually laughing at his friend. “Oh- Y/N!” Max catches his breath, “Lando is staying here tonight so… the couch is officially closed.”

I roll my eyes and lock myself into Max’s guest bedroom. This is going to be a long night.

____

I can’t sleep.

I can’t stop thinking about Lando sleeping right outside my door.

I need water, I decide.

I slip on my Brandy Melville shorts and adjust my thin tank top, walking out into the dark kitchen.

When I open the fridge I basically get blinded. Why the fuck is this light so bright!? I’m not the only one it bothers because the body on the couch stirs, “Hmm?” Lando groans and sits up, looking at me with sleepy confusion.

I grab the water pitcher and shut the door quickly, though by this time my eyes have adjusted to the dark and can properly see Lando.

Lando who’s in gray sweats.

Lando who’s in gray sweats, only.

“Sorry.” I whisper, turning to face the cabinet and trying to grab a glass.

I didn’t even notice he got off of the couch until I felt him behind me, reaching up to grab the cup that I couldn't reach.

“Thanks.” I duck under his arm. He's not even that much taller than me!

“Thirsty?” He says in a raspy voice. I pour my water with a slightly shaky hand.

“That would explain the water.” I say in a sassy tone. He chuckles a bit and leans against the counter top, his hands holding onto the marble.

I turn to face him, sipping my water. He checks me out then. With no shame at all! His hot gaze sweeps across my body for the second time today.

“Amused?” I ask innocently as his eyes meet mine.

“With you? Always.” He says without missing a beat, “I wasn’t joking, you know.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“You said I'm never serious around you. But I've never lied to you.” my heart rate raises. I'm grateful we’re in the dark so he can’t see my pink cheeks.

“Lando. You shouldn’t say that.” I try to keep my eyes above his bare torso, I'm not doing too well.

“Why? Cause of Max? Fuck Max.” He’s closer to me now, he places his hands on both sides of my waist, bracing himself against the counter, “I think about that kiss every day.”

“We were twelve, I think it’s time to get over it.” I shrug, teasing him. He puts his head down, shaking it.

“I hate you.” Our eyes lock again.

I can hear his breathing, “No you don’t.”

His eyes glance to my lips, “No I don’t.” I watch him hesitate, once. Only once. His lips are on mine in an instant after that.

He feels so familiar yet so changed. This isn’t like how he kissed me on new years, this is new, this is right.

I grip onto anything I can, wanting him closer. His hands move to my hips, slipping his finger under the waist of my shorts.

“Lan-” I try to say but he cuts me off by kissing me. “Lando.” I say again, his mouth moving to my neck so I can talk. “We’re gonna wake up-”

He stops kissing me and suddenly I'm lifted onto the countertop, the ice cold marble freezing my ass. “Love, you’re gonna have to not think about that. Alright?” The way he says it makes me want to squeeze my legs together.

I nod, unable to speak before kissing him again. He slips his tongue into my mouth and holds my waist tight. Landos touch makes me think I'm going to melt right onto the floor.

My head hits the cabinets behind me but I don’t care, I wrap my arms around his neck, having him in between my legs still.

His hand moves to my cheek, kissing me desperately. He pushes his hand back into my hair, shamelessly tugging at it. I whimper as my head nods backwards. I hear his quickened breathing against me, his lips dragging down my chin and neck.

“Fuck, do that again.” He presses wet kisses down my chest, gripping my boob under my shirt. Right on cue, I whimper again as he runs his finger over my nipple. “Good girl.”

Landos hand finds itself in my hair once again, wrapping it around his knuckles. I want him so bad and I hate him for doing this here.

When he pulls on my hair once more, I knew he fucked up. The moan I let out is raw and too loud for us trying to stay quiet.

He slaps his hand over my mouth, his eyes darting up to my face. We go silent, waiting for some sign that Max is awake or heard us.

We wait.

Nothing comes.

I look at him and lick his hand, “Ugh!” He whisper yells.

I laugh quietly, “Your own doing.”

He shakes his head and lets it drop onto my shoulder as we fall into silent laughter. I poke his side, “You like me.”

He just rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back, still panting a bit, “You like me.”

“With the way you kiss, I better.” I smirk as he drags his hand down his face.

I watch him adjust his pants, earning me a raised brow and a smirk. I push his face away from me and hop off the counter, I attempt to fix my hair but I’m still being stared at by Lando.

“You really are gorgeous, ya know?” His words surprise me, making my already hot body even worse.

“I appreciate it.”

“Let me take you out.”

“We haven’t seen eachother in a year- what makes you think this year will be any different?” He bites his lip, holding onto my hips one last time.

“We can make it work.”

“But Ma-” I try to say.

Lando rolls his eyes. “He never wanted us to fuck around-”

“Like we just did…” I interrupt.

He keeps going, “But I like you.” I can’t help but smile, “And I don’t care if he doesn’t like that.”

“Look at you… sticking up to my brother.”

He smiles, running his tongue over his teeth before kissing me, “Goodnight for real, Gorgeous.”

He lets go of me as I turn around, “Goodnight, Lando.”

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. this is based in 2051, living in the future, kissing, new feelings (reader & Lo), alcohol consumption, protected sex, riding, missionary, fluff, etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

diver by @anitalenia 🤍

There was hardly any difference between humans and robots. In fact, humans were scared to go out in sheer daylight. The government– used humans brains to make robots be it for work, or different things like soldiers. DNA was stolen, and given away for experiments. Human kind was slowly enslaved the end of the world was approaching. So you were born.. your brain was made mostly out of wires but you looked like a human. Your body temperature was warm just like human. Your hair was thick and long and you were aware that you were alive. You were programmed to work for people who would hire you. You completed basic tasks like cooking, cleaning and babysitting children. You were a perfect example of a housewife— you were made to do these things. Of course instead of having a human heart and brain you had adamantium in you. Your eyes were different they were pitch black sclera. You had a dainty very womanly hands– nails painted in purple. Your lips were glossy, your white pearly teeth shined like diamonds. Your cheeks looked like they were blushing. You had so many skills, you loved being you. Everything about you was amazing.. even the strength you possessed. Your features resembled a young female, maybe in her early twenties. Before you left for work, you packed a suitcase. Set of uniforms and you were given clothes.

“She’s all yours. Your contract ends in two months.” The man who brought you to your new place, shook hands with someone named Logan and left you. Logan grabbed the envelope and turned you on, by touching your hand. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled softly– eyelashes so big they were touching your eyelids.

“Hi” you greeted him.

“Hi..” he mumbled back observing you. His eyes taking in your beauty.

“What can I do for you.” You looked around the apartment, slowly walking to the window.

“I don’t know.. you tell me.” He sighed softly pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Your brain automatically told you that drinking is hazardous.

“Well..I can start by cleaning for you. Where should I begin?” You cheered scanning the apartment grabbing the clothes from the sofa.

“If that’s what you want..” His words trailed off slowly, gazing at your every move. You cleaned so well.. by seconds you were washing the dishes. The next moment you were folding his laundry, the next moment you dusted in the living room.

“Well.. you’re fuckin’ made for this kid” he opened the annual you came with. Things were written down how to control you– and how to turn you off and charge you during the nights.

“I didn’t know you require to sleep.” A slight wonder painted his features.

“I do Sir. Full eight hours.” You responded wiping down the counter, moving onto the bathroom to clean.

“No wait.. ugh” Logan was about to stop you but you already started to spray the surfaces and wiping everything down.

“You didn’t have to clean up here too..” taking in your appearance again he noticed how swiftly you handled everything. The sink was covered in blood, he had a little shooting accident and forgot to clean up. His whole apartment was a mess and now it was sparkling clean.

Leaning in the bathroom doorway with the annual book in his hand, reading about rules and resets. Blinking you stopped observing the tiles, stepping inside the bathtub you scrubbed them clean.

“Yeah.. c’on kid you don’t have to do that” slight nervousness washed over his features as he watched you.

“Sir. I’m programmed to complete everything once I start cleaning it.” You responded and he rolled his eyes.

“Knock yourself out. I’m gonna hit the bar” shrugging he threw the annual on the couch and grabbed his jacket.

“Have a nice time sir!” You cheered again.

By the time he returned you had the floors polished too, every corner of his apartment sparkly clean. His bedsheets ironed, the guest room prepared for your stay. Currently you were cooking dinner– you didn’t know what he liked but you did throw out two pizza boxes so you knew the kitchen was not really used for cooking. Having an excellent sense of smell, was one of your characteristics just like humans had. You were not able to taste the food yourself but you made sure it’s very well seasoned. Did you had the groceries delivered to you? Yes you did. Hearing the key lock you straightened your apron and walked to the door to greet him but you were only greeted with a growl. “What is the matter?” You asked, your system telling you that he is injured all over the chest. “Sir!” You followed him to the bathroom watching him stand over the sink removing his jacket finding out the red liquid littered all over his chest was something called ‘blood’ hearing him growl in pain using his strength to push out the bullets which fell into the sink you touched his shoulder. “Can I give you assistance sir?” You asked him, seeing his demeanour shift features softening. “Take a seat” running your hands over the cabinets using your special feature to locate the first aid kit you heard him sink into the couch with a painful sigh.

“Hey kid.. I’m healing alright? It’s not needed.” Putting the first aid kit down you approached him again sitting down next to him zooming in onto his chest seeing the little wounds heal away. Zooming back out you suggested to have dinner.

He shook his head. “I just wanna fuckin sleep. How about later?” You were not able to tell but you felt some kind of different emotion cloud your system. It was different– usually you were not able to tell what you felt but today it felt like sadness. “Of course Sir.” You returned back to kitchen– it was bizarre that you even felt something. After Logan napped, you were sitting next to him waiting patiently. Even though it was after midnight– seeing him wake up you greeted him

“Can I make you a cup of coffee Sir?” Logan sat up eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you awake? I thought you needed your eight hours of sleep?” Your features resembled a small smile

“You didn’t put me to sleep Sir…”. Grabbing the annual in his hand again turning the pages quickly he groaned. “I haven’t finished reading this.. look I’m sorry. I will do better” your system was telling you he felt regret. It was amazing you were able to recognise his human feelings but you weren’t nearby ready to feel something yourself it was surprising “It’s totally okay sir.” Making him a cup of coffee while he read the annual he sipped on it. He looked so focused, as he turned to the next page— he stopped. The page was pink with hearts all over it.

“Love mode?” He raised a brow giving you a look you didn’t manage to recognise. But it was between surprised and confused for sure.

“I didn’t quite get that Sir? Most of the robots like myself.. do have love mode.” Tilting your head to take a peek at the page he closed the book.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to activate it.” He responded taking a sip of his coffee.

“Why not Sir? It’s completely safe.” You smile at him.

“I will try my hardest to satisfy your needs.”

“Oh really? My needs?”

You nodded “Of course.”

“Did anyone ever used it on you?” Curiosity rose in his voice. Your response was simple

“No Sir. I am mostly used for cooking, cleaning, and household work…I’m excellent with children.”

Logan raised a brow again “Pretty little thing like you? Just— ugh I’m sorry..” he trailed off.

A smile rose to your cheeks “Yes Sir. That’s what I’m made for” the answer alone was fair enough but he let out a soft sigh. “Right– let’s get you to sleep” offering his hand you gladly took it. It was amazing that your body temperature automatically resembled his the moment of contact. You were something extraordinary– both walking to the guest room you grabbed your pyjama. “Just a moment.” He cleared his throat turning away from you whilst you changed your uniform throwing the worn clothes in the laundry basket. Logan did take a peek at your body, human… goddamn you were all human— the curves of your body were inviting even your naked butt was nothing compared to robots. Pulling out a wire from the back of your neck turning around to face him. “I’m ready Sir. Is there anything I can do for you before resting?” Logan shook his head slowly. “No.. thank you..” he stepped closer to you. Your system was reading his face and there was softness in his expression. Maybe a hint of lust. “Sir did you look at me whilst I changed?” Logan felt embarrassment heat in his face. “I did.” You smiled. “Would you wish to turn on the love mode?” He groaned at your question. “No, I promise you I won’t touch you” he stood his ground. Nodding softly you rested yourself on the bed. Closing your eyes as he set your body to charge. —

Walking to the kitchen stretching his arms he saw how clean it was. Opening the cabinets were stocked— “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows together, refrigerator was full too. Meals prepared, labelled, and even dates written on them. “Did she mealprepped too?” Asking himself reading through the labels. The meals looked very nutritious, very healthy. Looking at the door he had beers stocked alphabetically, even sodas too. Everything set by colour and flavour. Closing his eyes he sighed softly. How could he even live like this for the next two months? And after what? He’d have to rent someone again? Natural struggles like this. Maybe you were to teach him how to live like a human being. The moment in the guest room repeated at the back of his mind, how could he be attracted to a female robot. A machine with no feelings? Was there something wrong with him? He was telling himself that he’s an idiot. Mentally stabbing himself with his claws. Closing the refrigerator after grabbing himself a beer and the opening drawers. The utensils shined, the plates too. The dishwasher was empty and everything neatly put away. He felt satisfied but also..felt bad. He wanted to do this stuff too.. have a proper home. He missed having someone doing it for him maybe having dinners with someone. Charles used to tell him to give this ‘home’ a chance. But how could he? Every love of his life was now deceased. Everyone was just gone— perhaps you could make it all go away. Maybe he was losing his mind after all… he had nothing to lose anymore.

Switching off the lights he sat on the couch again opening the annual. What was love mode?

It peaked his interests, how could possibly a robot satisfy someone? As he read further his eyes widened. Love mode allows the synth, replicate human emotions, such as touch, feelings, desires and needs– it was possible? Leaning to his right he gazed to the guest room seeing you asleep on the bed. Pushing the thoughts away, he gulped on his beer before switching on the flat screen. The news were on, and it was possible to purchase a robot too. If the two month contract would end.. he’d have to hire someone new again or rehire you again. And again, and again. Maybe purchasing you and owning you would be a better idea.. giving you a home. You were constantly rehired and brought to different homes. Like this you could stay with him until the end of time—

Days were long, Logan worked during the week and you were mostly at his apartment making sure everything is clean. You’d take his mail, pick up his calls. Standing by the window seeing the advertisements of your face on the buildings— you were getting warnings that the weather might get even worse. So you decided to call Logan

“Sir, the weather is-” you started and Logan sighed.

“I don’t have time to pick up your calls. It’s just a storm, do not call me to work.”

“But Sir” the line got dead and your system told you he disconnected the line.

Taking an umbrella you left his apartment. Wearing one of his jackets and a hood over your head. You were immune to water or rain it didn’t matter you were allowed to go outside but not alone. Calculating the location of his workplace, you walked until you reached his office. Telling the receptionist you were to see Logan she directed you to his office.

“What are you doing here?” Alarming look on his face told you that he was nothing but worried.

“Umbrella. You needed one Sir– I am programmed to keep you safe and attend all of your needs.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows together feeling his heart skip a beat. Your black eyes lowered to his pulse you could read his heart rate. It was picking up spiking higher than usual. “Sir.. are you alright?” He nodded slowly. He never had someone take care of him or worry for him. Emotions— he felt so many being in your presence and god you would never know how he really felt. Would you?

“Stay here. I have one more meeting and then we can go home.” He told you motioning you to sit down at his office chair and you did as he wished. After a long day and a drive home in complete silence you didn’t make an eye contact with him. You couldn’t read any of his emotions anymore— as if he built this indestructible wall around his feelings protecting himself…after you both entered his apartment he told you he needed a shower.

“Would you like me to warm some dinner for you sir?” You suggested and he nodded “Yes. You can leave it on the table, and brew me some coffee please I will work in my home office.” You nodded. “The coffee is freshly brewed and sweetened sir.” Straightening your ironed apron you warmed up his dinner and did everything he wanted. Hearing the shower running and seeing the door is partly open you wondered how it felt standing beneath warm cascading water. Humans.. they were complex weren’t they?

Standing straight by the kitchen counter you replayed the memories of your first meeting with Mr Howlett. Until he walked out the bathroom having a towel around his waist. You followed after him.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Upon entering you saw him dry his hair.

“Can I help you dress?”

“No, kid. You’re doing way too much around here.��

“Sir.”

“Can I pick fresh pyjamas for you? I ironed them.”

“Knock yourself out, princess”

“But first can I dry you off, there’s water dripping off your body”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He groaned softly. Oh he wanted it; he wanted you close. He wanted you to dress him, feed him, and be his little housewife. It has been four weeks and he couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Sir? Would you like me to turn on the love mode for you?”

You asked taking a new towel to pat dry his chest.

“Yes.”

— Love mode activated. —

“Please pick percentage for my feelings for you sir” as you dried off his body, logan wondered if this was a good decision.

“75%”

Your system programmed your feelings to 75% percent to his wish.

“Choose the percentage for my affection for you sir”

“80%”

Logan watched you slowly dry every drop off his chest gracefully holding that towel.

“Choose the percentage for my lust sir”

“90%”

“You’ve successfully activated your love mode. It has been saved and now you can use me to satisfy your needs” as you said those words Logan watched your face changing. Your lips got glossier, your cheeks reddened and your eyes hooded. That’s how it worked.. you became even more beautiful, maybe in a sexiest ways possible. So alluring.. so inviting no man could ever refuse you

Logan cupped your cheek. You dropped the towel, your own hands started to wander over his naked chest exploring his toned abdomen. Pushing him on the bed slowly so he landed on his back you climbed on top of him. Opening his towel. Your fingers touching his erection, slowly. Thumb circling the pink swollen tip. “Do we have protection sir?” Logan nodded. “Yeah.. I do” his breathing hitched as you cupped his growing aching cock. Reaching in his bedside table he pulled protection, a condom. You let out a small moan as you started to roll the condom over his cock. He watched you— you became so different with the love mode and his desire for you was deepening. He couldn’t hide it, you were everything that he ever wanted. Taking care of him so well. “Take it off..” he whispered eyes hooded with lust. Undoing your apron, then your maid dress your naked body was revealed to him. Your pussy looked so small. He tested your folds and you closed your eyes releasing a soft moan. “You were made for this weren’t you princess? Your pussy is moist. How can that even happen” he breathed sliding a finger between your folds. “Fuck..” he cursed eyes glued to your perky breasts. God your nipples were hardened, and peaked so beautifully. Just like an ordinary female “I was made for you Sir..” you lustfully breathed but before you sank down on his protected cock he flipped you over so he was on top of you. “Please Sir.. use me. I can make it all go away.. I’m yours” you spoke softly observing his protected cock. Logan lowered himself on top of you completely, your hands caressed the small of his back as he slowly found your perfect pussy and inserted his cock right inside of you.

— Love overdrive —

“Mmmm!” Your cute little moan was everything that he ever wanted to her before he snapped his hips into you. Your little whimpers and moans only spurred him on “needy little thing aren’t you bub? love mode? you were made for this cock” you nodded rapidly sliding your arms around him and your thighs around his hips. “Yes sir, made for you and your cock” repeating his words your glossy lips remained parted and moans flowing out. Your pussy is being filled and repeatedly and you never experienced love mode. It was your first time. The creamy substance which coated his protected cock was your own lubrication even though you were created only to satisfy his needs, you felt like a human. “Kiss me..” holding the back of his hair as he nuzzled his face between your breasts harshly breathing he slid his large arm behind your neck slightly prodding you up towards his lips. His mouth connected to yours in a soft kiss and you closed your eyes at the experience, clinging your whole body around him. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip and your moans only increased in volume clouding his mind making him love struck. His heartbeat spiked, as he needily rolled his hips against yours putting all of his cock in and you barely withdrawing and moving back in again. Your system was pink, your vision was pink the whole while as you made love. “I love you Sir..” you mumbled against his lips and Logan growled out “You love me huh? Perfect little thing, but fuck I love you too” he watched your perfect breasts bounce to his thrusts until he flipped you right back. You were on top of him his cock buried right inside of you. Your small hands lying flat on his chest, biting your lower lip you started to bounce on his cock. Throwing your head back, your long wavy curls covering your back and logan seized your waist in his large palms exploring your breasts listening to your moans and whimpers as you took all of his length. “Shit.. I- fuck.. I’m gonna..” he gasped for breath as you rose up and down his length making sure you nestled him right in you, your hips picked up the speed as you bounced faster letting him grope your breasts letting out the loudest growls you have ever heard. Those growls were followed by soft moans as he halted your hips bucking up into you reaching his high letting out a breathless whimper. “Fuck.. ughhhh..” you cooed cupping his cheeks leaning down to give him a soft kiss and he responded softly. Sliding out of you slowly he rolled on top of you planting soft kisses on your glossy lips and you watched him dispose the use condom. You were so much at all at once that he couldn’t last as long as he planned with you. “Would you like me to switch off the love mode, sir?” Logan shook his head slowly. “No.. please.” A smile greeted your face and your hands entwined, your fingers joining. “Would you like me to run you a bath sir?” You asked him gazing up at him. “I’m exhausted..” he whispered. Noticing how your expression changed again, it was back to normal yet that hint of love remained. “Sleep Sir..” you kissed his lips watching him then roll over to the empty side immediately passing out. It was only natural that men needed sleep after sex, and you understood that so you left his bed and collected your clothes. After cleaning up in the bathroom like a woman supposed to do, your system was telling you to do it. With a damp cloth— then you changed into your pyjama getting your needed rest too charging up for the next day. Your memory replayed before sleeping, it was more then satisfying.

for both of you.

-

this is complete work of fiction, any mistakes typos I apologise in advance.

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König Part 2

Part One

Part Three

After you expressed interest in his miniature collection, he actually actively OFFICIALLY invited you over one evening (and inside!)

It may not sound like much to most to be invited into someone's house but for him, it's the ultimate trust. His house is his private space, his sanctuary, where he goes to be without other people

He doesn't ever invite anyone inside unless necessary or they've truly gained his trust and being invited INTO his house, and actually into a shared space of one of the hobbies that matter the most to him?? Yeah, that's how he says he likes you

He's been working on his models and dioramas for so so long he's incredibly proud and can't help but to want to actually show them off to someone who wants to see

Usually most people don't care :( or think it's weird

But you've embraced it! You're so excited and he's over the moon, he's having the best day ever, if you do research and bring him gifts or show him some new ideas

He has exquisite attention to detail and INSISTS on everything being exactly the way he envisions it. And you notice! You actually notice. Which means you care about his hobbies, the work he puts in, and therefore him

It might be a bit early to say the L word but he's feeling certain ways

He may be a big dude but that doesn't mean he lacks fine motor skills. He's laying those tiny pieces of moss onto the cobble stones like a PRO

Miniatures allow him control over the environment, even if it's on a smaller scale, and offer a way to keep his hands and mind busy so he often throws himself into it

It also helps him relive happier memories. He's afraid of forgetting them and when he's stressing, it's his happy place because he can look at them and simply remember the things in life that matter

He'll ask you about a story you like or a favorite show or book or movie. That's his next miniature planned (in secret. Can't ruin the surprise, he needs to have it all perfect. He will either read the book, watch the movie, will study EVERY detail)

He will start to invite you over when he's having a painting night or is working on them. You don't have to follow his rules or do what he wants! He's just happy you're there and appreciating it

He will always have your favorite snacks and drinks in stock too. Need to make it fun and can't have you going hungry

If you want, he'll put on background noise! He's happy to make it immersive and to light a candle or put something in a diffuser to really set the scene you're going for. But he's perfectly happy to hangout with you as is

You'll finally get to hear him laugh and hear his really, really bad jokes. He has a dry sense of humor and most of what he says isn't even close to funny, he's awkward like that

But if you laugh? That's it, he's sold.

Time flies so fast when you're over, you don't even realize it's 3am

You don't need to go home! I know it's right across the street but he has a guest room and it saves you the trip in the morning. You have a whole nother round of characters to paint :)

Okay maybe it was an excuse so you could see the curtains he'd made and the pillows and he decorated the guest room with! Like actually tried decorating. They're made with love, that's what counts right?

Did he spray the pillows with his cologne before you came over? Maybe, but he won't ever admit to it

You can't complain. Not when he insists it's no trouble at all, you should stay over, and he does everything he can to make you comfortable.

And you're certainly not complaining when you wake up to breakfast in bed

He's so happy to finally have someone to share his life with, even if it's nothing official. He might not say it because words are hard, but he'll always show it in every way that he can 💚

If you look closely at the replica he made of his childhood home, you'll notice two figures in the kitchen who just so happen to look like you and him

Proud believer of König being just a guy! A guy with hobbies! A guy with a calm domestic life! Just because he's a private military contractor doesn't mean he's a constantly violent dude or a guy who lacks an immense amount of respect for boundaries. Sure, he gets really into his job when he does it, but that's his realm! That's his zone. That's why he's confident and having fun, he knows he's good

Outside of work, he's just a guy with a troubled childhood making the best of life and trying to find his own sense of belonging, happiness, and peace

Justice for König, he's not an insane perv or some freakytron or some stalker :(

[bigfan-fanfic]

My Blooming Rose (Enchantress' Child!Reader x Ben Florian)

@iliumheightnights Hi friend! May I please request a little story? I'd love to read a story about Ben Florian dating a son of the enchantress reader. Reader still is learning magic and Ben helps him when he can and encourages him? All the fluff please?

In some respects, no one would necessarily blame your boyfriend's father for wanting to imprison your mother on the Isle of the Lost.

She did, after all, enchant a young, albeit spoiled, prince and condemn him (an eleven-year-old, mind you) to ten years of suffering and self-loathing in a body not his own.

But no. King Adam and his Queen would never have met if not for the Enchantress.

Besides, they learned well from the example of Queen Leah and King Stefan - don't piss off the magical entity in close proximity.

And so the Enchantress lived within Auradon, and you, her child, were born.

You're not sure you quite approve of the whole Isle of the Lost thing - your mother's punishments tended to get to people before they became irredeemable, so the idea of endless incarceration seems harsh, even by her standards.

But all the same, you are invited to Auradon Prep, mainly to study with the Fairy Godmother to hone your talents in magic. And since you aren't expected to enter a royal line, you don't even have to do some of the more inane Auradon courses.

But who would have thought that without any magic at all, you'd have ensorcelled the heart of Prince Ben.

Ben is just a spot of sunshine in your world, he's so affectionate and lovely.

And supportive!

He's figured out the loophole in the rule that he can't spend all his free time with you by organizing "study dates" in addition to normal dates.

But since magical homework and study is pretty involved, that just means he hangs around in your dorm with you more often than not.

Not that either of you mind.

Except this can sometimes lead to minor mishaps.

You're practicing a spell in the mirror, meant to help disguise someone by changing their appearance.

Focusing on your hair, trying to lengthen it just a little. Just a small test.

But then Ben leaps up to kiss you on the cheek and you wave the training wand just a little haphazardly-

And Ben gets a face-full of your magic.

"Oh my gosh, Ben! Are you okay?"

"Yup!" Ben groans from the floor. "Nothing broken. I think."

He hops back up to his feet, and you gasp.

Your boyfriend's smooth jaw has sprouted patchy growths of hair that are still thickening until they make a rather nice beard and mustache. "Ben... I..."

Ben sees himself in the mirror and grins. "Oh, this is nice!"

"It was an accident."

"If even your accidents are this great, you're gonna be a better wizard than Merlin!" Ben pats your shoulder before stroking his new beard. "It's not even scratchy!"

You blush. "You look really good with a beard."

"Do I look kingly?" Ben asks eagerly, striking a pose.

"You do, but let's try and find a counterspell quickly. Accidental magic tends to corrupt pretty fast. You might end up with the hair changing colors like a chameleon or something."

"That actually sounds kinda-"

"And then I wouldn't be able to see where to kiss you."

Ben instantly gets serious. "Let's hit the books."

"But uh... when you do reverse the spell... Maybe try it on purpose? I wanna see what kissing with a beard is like."

You grin. "Oh really? Why?"

"Cause when you're my Royal Consort, I'll probably grow out a beard and kiss you all the time, so... I wanna see what I'm working toward."

You laugh and then squeeze his hand. "In that case, let's get this thing reversed as soon as we can."

"Love you. My blooming rose."

"Love you. My noble king."

[cool-fancier]

Unwritten Desires

Synopsis: Jennie Kim ruled high school—and your heart, though she didn't know it. A new friendship ignites jealousy, unraveling hidden feelings in this slow-burn romance.

Word Count: 4.7K

High school was nothing like you imagined. Instead of the bustling social life others seemed to have, you found solace in the quiet corners of the library, your head often buried in books. Being a nerd didn't bother you much, but it did make you a target. And at the top of that list of tormentors was Jennie Kim, the queen bee of the school. With her perfect looks, sharp wit, and magnetic personality, she ruled the school alongside her close-knit group of friends: Jisoo, Rosé, and Lisa.

Jennie's attention on you began almost as soon as you set foot in Northbridge High. Maybe it was the way you kept to yourself, or the fact that you didn't care about fitting into the social hierarchy that made you an easy target. Whatever it was, Jennie made sure you knew your place. Her friends joined in too, but it was Jennie's taunts that cut the deepest.

"Still hiding behind your books, loser?" Jennie would sneer as she passed by you in the hallways, her friends giggling behind her.

You tried your best to ignore her, to focus on your studies and pretend that her words didn't sting. But it wasn't easy, especially when Jennie seemed to take pleasure in getting under your skin. There were days when you wanted to snap back, to tell her off, but something always held you back.

Despite how much you tried to hate her, there was something about Jennie that fascinated you. It was an inexplicable pull, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. You loathed the way she treated you, but at the same time, you found yourself thinking about her more than you wanted to admit. It was confusing and frustrating, and it only made you more determined to keep your distance.

— — — — —

As the school year dragged on, you began to feel more isolated than ever. But then, halfway through the semester, a new student arrived. Mina was different from anyone you had met before. She was quiet, but not in the shy way you were; there was a quiet confidence about her that drew people in. She didn't care about the school's social hierarchy, and unlike everyone else, she wasn't afraid to approach you.

"Mind if I sit here?" Mina asked one day in the library, her voice soft but steady.

You looked up from your book, surprised to find her standing there. "Uh, sure. Go ahead."

Mina smiled and took the seat across from you, setting her bag down on the table. "I'm Mina," she introduced herself, extending a hand.

"Y/n," you replied, shaking her hand.

"I've seen you around," Mina said, her tone conversational. "You're always reading. What's the book this time?"

You glanced down at the book in your hands. "Pride and Prejudice. It's, um, one of my favorites."

"Classic," Mina said with an approving nod. "I love that one too. Elizabeth Bennet is such a strong character."

You smiled, relaxing a little. It was rare to find someone who shared your love of classic literature, and even rarer to find someone who didn't judge you for it.

As the days went by, you and Mina grew closer. She started sitting with you at lunch, and soon, you found yourself part of a small, tight-knit group that included Mina's friends, Yeri and Chaeyoung. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you belonged somewhere.

But not everyone was happy about your newfound friendship. Jennie's attitude toward you grew colder, her taunts more biting. It was as if she couldn't stand the fact that you were finding happiness, that you were no longer the lonely outcast she had always known you to be.

You tried to ignore Jennie's behavior, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She seemed to be everywhere, watching you with a gaze that was both curious and hostile. There was a new intensity in her eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher.

— — — — —

One afternoon, you and Mina were sitting together in the cafeteria, discussing your latest assignment for English class. The conversation flowed easily, and for once, you felt at ease in a place that had always made you anxious. But that sense of peace was shattered when Jennie and her friends approached your table.

"Well, well," Jennie drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's all chummy with the new girl. Guess the nerd finally found someone who can tolerate them."

Mina frowned, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at Jennie. "What's your problem, Jennie?"

Jennie's gaze shifted to Mina, and for a moment, you thought you saw something like jealousy flicker in her eyes. But then her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No problem," Jennie said coolly. "Just surprised that someone like you would waste your time with a loser like Y/n."

Mina's frown deepened, but she didn't back down. "She's not a loser. She's smart and kind, and if you actually took the time to get to know her, you'd see that."

Jennie's friends exchanged uneasy glances, clearly sensing the tension in the air. Jisoo stepped forward, placing a hand on Jennie's arm. "Come on, Jennie. Let's just go."

But Jennie didn't move. She continued to stare at you, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. You couldn't tell what she was thinking, but there was something in her gaze that made you feel like there was more going on beneath the surface.

Finally, Jennie turned away, her expression unreadable. "Whatever," she muttered, before walking off, her friends trailing behind her.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, your hands trembling slightly. Mina reached over and placed a comforting hand on your arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," you replied, though you weren't entirely sure if that was true. "Thanks for standing up for me."

"Of course," Mina said with a reassuring smile. "No one deserves to be treated like that."

You smiled back, grateful for Mina's support. But even as you tried to focus on your conversation with her, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jennie. There was something about her behavior that didn't add up, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about her.

— — — — —

The days passed in a blur of conflicting emotions. You found yourself thinking about Jennie more than you wanted to admit, trying to make sense of the way she made you feel. On one hand, she was your bully, the person who had made your life miserable for years. But on the other hand, there was something about her that drew you in—something you couldn't quite explain.

Meanwhile, Jennie was struggling with her own feelings. She hated the way she had reacted to seeing you with Mina—hated the jealousy that burned inside her, the way she couldn't stop thinking about you. She tried to bury those feelings, to push them aside and focus on maintaining her queen bee status, but it was getting harder every day.

Her friends noticed the change in her too.

"You've been acting weird lately," Rosé commented one day as they lounged in Jennie's bedroom. "Is everything okay?"

Jennie shook her head, not wanting to admit what was really bothering her. "I'm fine."

But Lisa wasn't convinced. "Is it Y/n?" she asked, her voice gentle. "You've been watching her a lot more than usual."

Jennie stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. "I'm just making sure she knows her place."

Jisoo frowned, leaning in closer. "Jen, maybe it's time to back off a little. You're acting like... I don't know, like you're jealous or something."

"I'm not jealous," Jennie snapped, but the words felt hollow even as she said them.

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, and Rosé sighed. "It's okay if you are, you know. You don't have to pretend around us."

Jennie's defenses wavered, and for a moment, she considered telling them the truth—telling them how she really felt. But the fear of what that would mean, of what might happen if she admitted it out loud, held her back. "I'm not pretending," she insisted, but her voice was softer now, less certain.

"Jen, you know we're here for you," Jisoo said gently. "You don't have to keep everything bottled up. If you like her... if you want something different, that's okay."

Jennie looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of their words. She knew they were right—knew that she couldn't keep running from her feelings forever. But the idea of actually doing something about it, of being vulnerable in front of you, was terrifying.

"I just don't know if I can," Jennie admitted quietly. "I've spent so long being this person... I don't know how to be anything else."

Jisoo reached over and placed a comforting hand on Jennie's arm. "You don't have to figure it all out at once," she said softly. "Just take it one step at a time. And if you need help... we've got your back."

Jennie nodded, though she still felt uncertain. She knew she couldn't keep going the way she had been, but she wasn't sure she was ready to take the leap either.

— — — — —

One afternoon, after a particularly stressful day of classes, you decided to head to your usual spot in the library. It was quiet there, and you needed some time to clear your head. But as you rounded the corner, you were surprised to find Jennie sitting at one of the tables, her head in her hands.

You hesitated, not sure whether to approach her or leave her be. But something in Jennie's posture—something in the way she was sitting so still, her shoulders tense—made you pause.

"Jennie?" you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Jennie looked up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

"What do you want?" Jennie finally asked, her voice cold.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. "I just... you seemed upset."

Jennie's expression flickered, and for a moment, you thought she might actually open up to you. But then she shook her head and looked away. "It's none of your business."

You nodded, feeling a pang of hurt. "Right. Sorry."

But as you turned to leave, Jennie's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," she said, her tone softer now. "Can we talk?"

You turned back to face her, your heart pounding in your chest. "About what?"

Jennie hesitated, her eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "About... us. About everything."

The air between you seemed to thicken, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. "Okay," you said quietly, taking a seat across from her.

Jennie took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke. "I know I've been awful to you. And I'm sorry for that. But there's something I need to tell you, and I don't know how else to say it."

You frowned, unsure of where this was going. "What is it?"

Jennie looked down at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. You stared at Jennie, unable to process what she had just said. "What?"

Jennie bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I've been so scared to admit it, even to myself. But I can't keep pretending anymore."

Your mind was racing, a thousand thoughts swirling in your head. "But you've been so mean to me," you said, your voice trembling. "Why... why would you do that if you liked me?"

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "Because I didn't know how to deal with it. I was scared, and I took it out on you because... because I didn't want to face how I really felt."

You felt a wave of emotions wash over you—anger, confusion, hurt. But underneath it all, there was something else—something that had been buried deep inside you for so long.

"I don't understand," you said softly. "You made me feel like I was nothing."

"I know," Jennie whispered, a tear finally slipping down her cheek. "And I'm so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but... I had to tell you the truth."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the silence between you heavy with unresolved emotions. Then, before you could stop yourself, you reached across the table and wiped the tear from Jennie's cheek.

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hope, maybe?

"I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice soft. "I'm still hurt, but... I can see that you're hurting too."

Jennie swallowed hard, her breath hitching. "I am. And I don't know how to make it right, but... I want to try. If you'll let me."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered her words. There was a part of you that wanted to run, to protect yourself from the possibility of getting hurt again. But there was another part of you—a part that you hadn't fully acknowledged until now—that wanted to give her a chance.

"I don't know if I can trust you," you said honestly. "But I'm willing to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

— — — — —

The days that followed were a blur of new experiences and emotions. You and Jennie began to spend more time together, slowly breaking down the walls that had been built between you. It wasn't easy—there were moments when the old hurts resurfaced, when you questioned whether you were making the right decision. But Jennie was patient, and for the first time, she let herself be vulnerable with you.

One evening, after a long day of classes, you found yourselves alone in Jennie's room. Her friends were out, giving the two of you some much-needed privacy. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you as you explored the complexities of your relationship.

"I never thought I'd see this side of you," you admitted as you sat on her bed, your back against the headboard. "You're so different from the person I thought you were."

Jennie sat beside you, her legs tucked under her. "I guess I've always been scared to show this side of myself. It's easier to be the queen bee, to keep everyone at arm's length."

"But it's lonely," you said softly, understanding dawning on you.

Jennie nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Yeah, it is."

You reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be lonely anymore. You have me now."

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes shining with emotion. "I don't deserve you."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Maybe not, but that's not for you to decide. I want to be here, Jennie. I want to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of vulnerability and desire swirling within them. The air between you felt heavy, thick with unspoken feelings and anticipation. Slowly, Jennie's hand slid up your side, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as she explored the curve of your waist, her fingertips brushing lightly over your skin.

"Can I kiss you?" Jennie whispered, her voice soft yet laden with need. Her breath ghosted over your lips, and the intensity in her gaze made your heart race.

"Yes," you replied, barely able to speak as the tension between you grew almost unbearable.

Jennie's lips met yours in a slow, tentative kiss, her movements gentle as if she were savoring the moment. You could feel her hesitance, the way she was holding back, but the longer the kiss lasted, the more it deepened. Your hands found their way to Jennie's shoulders, pulling her closer as you pressed your body against hers, craving more of her touch.

Jennie's hand slid up your back, sending a wave of warmth through you as she kissed you with more urgency. She carefully pushed you down onto the bed, her body following yours until she was hovering above you, her lips never leaving yours. The sensation of her weight on top of you made you gasp, your mind spinning as her presence consumed you.

"Is this okay?" Jennie asked breathlessly, her voice tinged with both desire and uncertainty as she pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

You nodded, unable to form words as you looked up at her. "Yes... please," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Jennie's lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes darkening with desire. She leaned down to kiss you again, her mouth moving against yours with a newfound intensity. Her hand trailed down your side, her fingers lightly grazing your skin as she found the hem of your shirt and slowly began to lift it.

You raised your arms to help her remove your shirt, your breath catching in your throat as Jennie tossed it aside. She paused for a moment, her eyes roaming over your now exposed skin, admiration and desire evident in her gaze.

"You're so beautiful," Jennie murmured, her voice filled with awe as she took in the sight of you.

You blushed under her intense gaze, but before you could respond, Jennie leaned down to press a trail of kisses along your collarbone, her lips warm and soft against your skin. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of you. Her kisses grew more heated as she made her way lower, her hands gently caressing your sides as she explored your body with both her lips and her touch.

When Jennie reached the clasp of your bra, she hesitated, looking up at you for permission. You nodded, your heart racing as she skillfully unhooked it and slid the straps down your arms, her fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver with anticipation. Once the bra was off, Jennie's gaze lingered on your bare chest for a moment before she leaned down to capture one of your nipples in her mouth.

The sensation of Jennie's warm mouth on your sensitive skin sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips. Jennie's tongue flicked over your nipple, her teeth gently grazing it as she sucked, drawing more moans from you as you arched your back, pressing yourself into her touch.

Jennie's hand moved to your other breast, her fingers lightly pinching and rolling your nipple as she continued to lavish attention on your chest. The dual sensations were almost overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and need building inside you with every touch, every kiss.

"Jennie..." you breathed, your voice trembling as you felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, desperate for release.

Jennie lifted her head, her lips curving into a smile as she looked down at you. "I want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she kissed her way down your body, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When she reached the waistband of your jeans, Jennie paused again, her fingers lightly brushing over the fabric as she looked up at you. "Is this okay?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt your arousal growing more intense by the second. "Yes... please, Jennie," you whispered, your voice laced with need.

Jennie's hands were steady as she unbuttoned your jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper and sliding the fabric down your legs. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of Jennie's hands on you, her touch light and teasing as she traced the waistband of your panties.

She looked up at you again, her eyes dark with desire as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to her. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, but Jennie's gaze was filled with nothing but admiration and longing as she took in the sight of you.

"You're perfect," Jennie whispered, her voice filled with reverence as she gently spread your legs, positioning herself between them. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, her breath warm against your skin as she made her way closer to your core.

When Jennie's mouth finally met your most sensitive spot, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, your hands instinctively reaching down to tangle in her hair as the pleasure washed over you. Jennie's tongue moved expertly, flicking and swirling over your clit with just the right amount of pressure, driving you wild with need.

Jennie's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as she devoured you with her mouth, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was intense, almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, your mind spinning as Jennie continued to pleasure you.

"Jennie... oh god, Jennie," you moaned, your voice barely audible as you felt the tension inside you coil tighter and tighter, building toward a release that was just out of reach.

Jennie hummed in response, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through your body as she increased her pace, her tongue moving faster, more insistently against your clit. She was relentless, her mouth and hands working together to push you closer and closer to the brink.

The pleasure built higher and higher, the knot in your core tightening until it was almost unbearable. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of release, and all it took was one more flick of Jennie's tongue, one more gentle squeeze of her hands, to send you tumbling over.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Jennie didn't stop, her mouth still working against you as she guided you through the waves of your climax, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent, your body going limp against the bed.

When it was over, Jennie pulled back slightly, her lips and chin glistening as she looked up at you with a satisfied smile. She climbed back up your body, her hands gentle as she pulled you into her arms, holding you close as you both caught your breath.

"You're incredible," Jennie whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she gently stroked your hair.

You smiled weakly, still trying to catch your breath as you looked up at her. "That was... amazing," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Jennie's smile widened, and she leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she murmured against your lips, her voice filled with affection.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at her words, and you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer as you pressed your forehead against hers. "I think I'm falling for you, Jennie," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jennie's breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with surprise as she looked down at you. "You are?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into her eyes. "Yes. I know it's complicated, and I'm still hurt by what happened in the past... but I want to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes filled with tears, and she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I want that too," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll make it up to you, [Your Name]. I'll spend every day making sure you know how much you mean to me."

— — — — —

As the afterglow settled around you both, a warm, comfortable silence filled the room. Jennie gently stroked your hair, her fingers weaving through the strands as she looked down at you with a mix of affection and something playful dancing in her eyes.

"You know," Jennie began, her voice soft but laced with a teasing tone, "I might still have to bully you from time to time."

You blinked up at her, surprised by the comment, but the smile tugging at her lips reassured you that she wasn't serious. "What?" you asked, a small, amused smile creeping onto your face. "Are you saying you haven't gotten it out of your system yet?"

Jennie chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe not entirely," she teased, her voice playful. "I mean, I can't let you forget who's in charge around here."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile only grew wider as you played along. "Oh, really? And what exactly do you plan on doing to remind me?"

Jennie's grin widened as she dipped her head, her lips brushing against your ear. "Maybe I'll have to keep you on your toes," she whispered, her voice low and teasing. "A little teasing here, a little flirting there... just to make sure you don't get too comfortable."

You shivered at the way her breath tickled your ear, the playful promise in her tone making your heart race. "I'm not sure if I should be excited or worried," you said, your voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of challenge.

Jennie laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant warmth through your chest. "Maybe a little of both," she teased, pulling back to look into your eyes. "But don't worry... I'll make sure it's the good kind of bullying."

You couldn't help but laugh at her words, your heart swelling with affection for this side of Jennie that you were just beginning to discover. "As long as it comes with some of this," you said, gesturing to the two of you tangled up together in bed, "I think I can handle it."

Jennie's smile softened, and she leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. "Deal," she murmured against your lips, her voice filled with warmth. "But only because I really, really like you."

Your heart fluttered at her words, and you pulled her closer, savoring the moment as you kissed her back. "I really like you too, Jennie," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Jennie beamed at you, her expression so full of happiness that it took your breath away. "Good," she said, her tone still playful but with an underlying seriousness. "Because I'm not letting you go."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. "I wouldn't want you to," you replied softly, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

As the two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected twist of fate had led you to something truly special. And with Jennie by your side—teasing, playful, and full of love—you were ready to embrace whatever the future held.

Jennie shifted slightly, her hand lazily tracing patterns on your skin as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. "You know," she mused, her voice soft, "I think we're going to be okay."

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep in your heart. "Yeah," you agreed, your voice filled with quiet confidence. "We're going to be just fine."

And as you drifted off to sleep in Jennie's arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you'd face them together—with a little teasing, a lot of love, and a future full of possibilities.

[luvwestwood]

"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

Wicked Gelphie fans, i need you guys so badly to know how well Elphaba/Glinda are "good timeline"d "history doesnt repeat, it rhymes"-ified by Dorothy/Princess Ozma in Baum's original Oz book series. like. Dorothy/Ozma get everything; theyre the sweet, intimate friends-to-"??? are they a couple?"-ified political power-sapphic-duo that Gelphie would have wanted to be. like??

if you merge canons, fam... Wicked-Glinda must be struggling, seeing Dorothy/Ozma be everything she and Elphaba could have been.... omfg... the angst potential, the envy of watching a couple of sapphic childhood sweethearts get everything they were denied, fulfill Glinda and Elphie's dreams, and seemingly so easily too...

(also!! they even CAN look like a kid-Glinda and kid-Elphaba! there's canon to justify that kind of appearance paralleling!!)

faq below if you want more context

edit, psa: i did read these books from like.. the ages of 10 to like 14 or so, maybe as young as 8? idk, i dont remember. anyway. its been a decade since i picked them back up. and i didnt think this would gain as much traction as it has been after 100+ notes in less than 24 hours. uh. so. take my chronic memory loss-addled summarization with a grain of salt?? like? i just wrote this post so i didnt have to re-vent (agAIN) to my friends about how much i fucking love Dorothy/Ozma, period, much less in parallel to Gelphie. so. enjoy, carry on, and whatnot lmao

1️⃣: there's Oz books? plural???

yes, Baum wrote 14 books about Oz, actually. also, he wrote them under the appointment of "the royal historian of Oz" instead of "author", so there's other "official" Oz books by other "royal historians of Oz"

Baum wrote so much bc (he needed money, yes, but also:) kids would send him questions in fan-mail, and he would proceed to answer them via new novels. so he never planned to make more Oz books, he just (wasnt good with money and also) was routinely inspired by the kids who wrote to him and would write the stuff they wanted to learn about Oz and whatnot

2️⃣: does Dorothy go back to Oz? wasn't it all a dream for her??

yeah, Dorothy returns to Oz a lot in the books, she eventually even moves to live there permanently. bc, in the book series, it's a real place

only in the 1939 film was Oz ever a dream

3️⃣: how does Dorothy look like Glinda OR Elphaba?? what are you talking about?

okay so, "The Wizard of Oz" has an illustrator, W. W. Denslow. in the book, Dorothy is confirmed to be wearing a blue-white gingham dress (she changes outfits tho, she doesnt always wear the same dress all 14 books like she's some cartoon character); but im pretty sure her hair was all Denslow(? i could be remembering wrong. p sure im not tho??). this is what the 1939 movie based her appearance off of. so i can see why youd go "she doesnt look like Glinda or Elphaba"

BUT Denslow and Baum started feuding. so for the rest of the Oz books that Baum wrote, he had a different illustrator by the name of John R. Neil

and Neil decided to give Dorothy for every one of the books he illustrated (so, 13 of Baum's books to Denslow's 1 book of Baum's) a cute lil blonde bob, making her look like what i assume blonde-Glinda looked like as a child. i think she'd approve lol

so!! Dorothy very much looks like a trendy little Glinda, with her cute blonde bob, her fashionable drop-waist dress, and bows for most of the Baum series, actually!

(also, Neil had a preference for dressing Dorothy in this red and polka-dot number, but, again, she does wear other outfits)

(lmao also look at Tin-Man and Scarecrow with blonde-Dorothy, they look like her two gay dads encouraging her to just go be herself at school?? i love them)

(also, if you see "Eloise At The Plaza"-energy in this Dorothy design, im right there with you lol)

4️⃣: who is Ozma??

she's the Princess of Oz. she eventually appears in the second book of the series. she rules Oz after the Wizard

she's actually a really interesting transwoman allegory too. (spoilers for a book from the early 1900s?) she was born a little girl named Ozma, but has a spell put on her as a baby to be genderbent and was socially raised as a little boy under a different name, and she later realizes who she truly is: a girl. she finds the transformation scary, as she returns to her girl-form she always truly was, but she feels better and more herself now that she is Ozma again. i dont think L. Frank Baum intentionally wrote her to be a trans allegory, but you can very obviously see why our trans elders fucking LOVED Ozma back in the early 1900s

also, she has a similar "sir, you fucked up" relationship with the Wizard as Elphaba*. and, also like Elphaba, Ozma politically tries to make things in Oz better (just.. unlike Elphaba, Ozma has the power and support to do just that p much asap)

* (edit for contextual clarification on how the Wizard fucked up: the Wizard fucked up with Ozma because he is ultimately and p directly the reason why she was genderbent/hidden. he deposed of her family and sent her away. Baum decided later on to backtrack a little bit on this(?) because he wanted to bring back the Wizard and, in order for Baum to do that, has to try to not make him SO terribly horrible??? so like. Ozma does end up forgiving him and tolerates him amd he's nicer, later on, within the books. but i doubt any modern adaptation of the books would follow that, personally. even as a kid, i went "bullshit" and headcanoned that Ozma fucking hated the guy and, at best, MAYBE tolerated him for Dorothy, but overall did not like him for justifiable reasons! i think the direction society seems to have taken the Wizard is interesting, and i wouldnt be surprised if there was at least one future adaptation that made him The Bad Guy in a very Rumplestiltskin in the Once Upon A Time TV show kind of way. but like. in the books, they do END UP getting along. i just forever disagree with Baum on that lol i think the Wizard fucked up, and in book 2 of the series (the one where Ozma is, y'know, introduced), it is obvious the Wizard FUCKED UP. but yeah. also, Ozma does get her dad back. her mom was kind of never in the picture to begin with, specifically in a Ponyo's Mom kind of way, like, she made Oz and then left it for her husband and kid to rule, so. yeah. im getting off track. my point is the Wizard did a full-on coup on her family and then banished her and genderbent her so no one would recognize that she had claim to the throne he was sitting on!! he fucked up! so, like, i personally hc that Elphaba founded the "i hate the Wizard" club to which everyone slowly joined, like Fieyro and etc, and Ozma is their youngest member. the Wizard did both Elphie and Ozma so dirty, omfg)

it also should be mentioned, Ozma in NBC's "Emerald City" was casted as Black (her actress being Jordan Loughran). so, though Ozma does not have green skin (but also? neither did the Wicked Witch of the West in the books, she wasn't green there. that was a 1939 film decision to make her green. so! Ozma could be green!! why not!), but she does have Black features to theoretically remind Glinda of Cynthia Eviro's Elphaba when you consider that casting. or, if you prefer a Jewish!Elphaba casting, a'la Idina Menzel's Elphaba, i think Ozma's book design works well to interpretively parallel those features too. or both, if you like the sound of a Black-Jewish Elphaba and Ozma paralleling lol

(edit, because i thought i mentioned this but? no?? i didnt?? i must have misclicked or something to have deleted the paragraph. im so sorry, here you go:) also, when Ozma was a boy, she was basically enslaved to her jailor of a caretaker. which one could interpret as "oh, a Cinderella story!", sure. but, with a Black Ozma, it does read as an intergenerational grief-formed power-fantasy that is both empowering and poignant for Ozma to have ran away from her enslavement and gone on to become a princess afterwards. to any Black folks who may be going "is this going to trigger me?" about Ozma having been a child-slave, i remind you that Baum wrote this intentionally for children, so, no, the books do not sit in the trauma and horror of enslavement, but whether or not it would trigger you yourself is up to your discretion. i will say, Baum did NOT write the American Girls' Addy of his time (context: a children's book about a child-slave that does go into the horrors, some, though in a kid-friendly way) or Louis Sachar's Holes (i asssume i dont have explain Holes since its movie was such a hit), i remember it as even more kid-friendly than either of those also-children's books, so i would assume most people would be fine? but you are responsible for your own mental well-being, i urge you to confirm if it is fine for yourself however you need to do that. but, yes, you can use this backstory as further evidence for your Ozma being Black, of course! you can have Ozma be Black regardless, but if you want this as further evidence, go ahead! and also, it does parallel Ozma to Elphaba in the sense that Elphaba's family mistreats Elphaba! (i will, regardless of if you prefer a Jewish and/or Black Elphaba, add that doing so is also a nice "fuck you" to Baum in how, being a white man of the late 1800s and early 1900s, did end up throwing in racist and/or antisemitic caricatures here and there within his 14 books, unfortunately. i, an Indigenous American, remember as a child still immensely enjoying Oz despite Baum being racist towards Native Americans. if youre curious on the egregious level of it all and if the story could still be enjoyable, id say it's in the realm of Peter Pan, Willy Wonka, and Matilda of "wow. that is shitty. im going to pretend this thing i love is good instead via cognitive dissonance")

regardless, in John R Neil's illustrations, Ozma does have black hair, so that too coincides with modern understandings of Elphaba

(there is also her appearance in Disney's "Return to Oz", performed by Emma Ridley, where she is blonde. but, though i love that spooky movie, that's neither here nor there. as far as im aware, only in that movie has Ozma not had black hair)

anyway, she rules Oz; and by book 3, becomes really close friends with Dorothy. they're not a canon couple, not anymore than Gelphie is, but they are such close and affectionate friends that they are so easy to ship as childhood sweethearts (so, no, there is no moment of 🎶loathing🎶, but i find that sweetness makes them an angstier parallel for Glinda to watch over, personally lol)

like here's some illustrations from the books of them just being two "gal pals". no wonder our queer elders shipped them lmao and this isn't even all of their illustrations together, this is just the first spurts that google shot out at me lmao

also??? this is them with book-Glinda. not only do they look absolutely darling, also, yes, Dorothy becomes a princess, because Ozma said so. they co-rule Oz together. they are just too sweet, fam, i love these two little childhood sweethearts, i choose to see Dorothy's princess-ship as the same as two kids promising to marry one another when they grow up. this is so cute

and can you imagine Wicked-Glinda? looking down at these two, seeing what could have between herself and Elphaba had things turned out different??? im making myself sad

(also "Book of Glinda" is so wild. both in terms of "...Baum, how do you not see this as queer?" like with one example being like "Baum, you put that Glinda has 100s of single women at her beck and call in her palace, this is so easy to see as sapphic, sir"... and then, over here, we have John R Neil repeatedly reading "gave a platonic, innocent kiss" and going "okay, so, uh, making out? i dont do platonic kissing" lmao anYWAAAAYYYY, THAT'S NOT RELEVANT HERE)

🌟5️⃣ bonus:

so, you might have a few follow-up questions. like, what is "Elphaba" like in the books? what does she look like?

well, she's really only in the first book. she's one-note, evil, dies. she's not green-skinned, and she isn't given any sort of name. she is only called "the Wicked Witch of the West", that's it, she is not Elphaba

however, i will mention the Wicked Witch of the West, in the books, is a fashion disaster and i want to see her look used as evidence that "yes, goth-Elphaba and dark-academia-Elphaba are 10/10, but also?? kitschy grandma-core knitwear-Elphaba × her fashionably Barbie pink girlfriend". i'd love to see art of that. i'm just saying

also?? this isn't related to her at all but guess what

Scarecrow/Tin-Man was like THE ship for our queer elders. they are so emotionally intimate, they live together, it's great, look at these pictures of them being absolute bros (can you see why they were shipped so hard)

i bring this up, bc you could argue Fieyro/Boq if you merge canons to make your own narrative and whatnot. guess Fieryo and Boq kinda had their own mirrored 🎶loathing🎶 period under that framing lmao

or, if you hate Boq, youll probably love the Tin-Man's angsty "ship of Theseus"-like backstory as the once-Nick Chopper(: his human name, pre-tin-ification) that is in the books

so! enjoy that knowledge!! theyre super cute in the books, i love them. again, not a canon ship, but still beloved by our elder queers, just like Ozma and Dorothy

i hope it makes even more sense now why our queer elders used the phrase "Are you a friend of Dorothy?" as code to see if someone else was queer, not even taking into account the 1939 movie or Judy Garland's relationship with the queer community

anyway, albeit this is all the basics generalized, that should be everything

but yeah!! Ozma and Dorothy reminding Glinda of what could have been, of what she lost, being the sweeter "next generation" version of Gelphie?? tugs so hard at my heartstrings

but yeah, do whatever you want with Gelphie, Fieryo, and Part 2. im just saying. the angst potential of being envious and living vicariously through someone and seeing other people get the happy ending you were denied?? is right there lol

(edit: this awesome video by Kaz Rowe JUST came out if you want to hear more about the Oz book series, its queerness, its author, its GLARING PROBLEMS including but not limited to instances of racism, and so on and so forth. Kaz Rowe is a fantastic video-essayist, so i hope you watch the video and enjoy their hard-polished craftsmanship)